Mist & Shadows
by J.L.Harper
Summary: COMPLETE! After a close brush with death, a young, Moriquendi, she-elf loses her memory and finds herself in Imladris. Will she find love, or will her past come back to haunt her? (A LOTR parallel.) Please R&R!
1. Escape

Escape  
  
Amarth stared with disdain at this victim. A small smirk made his face look demon-like. It had been a merry chase, lasting for days. It was not often his prey eluded him that long, but Amarth had promised his brother he would avenge his untimely death. A death brought upon him suddenly and unexpectedly by the defiant creature before him.  
  
"I never break a promise, Dûriel." He reached forward to stroke her cheek possessively; his reward was a snarl and an attempt to remove several of his fingers. Amarth pulled his hand back quickly. The sharp, white teeth clipped on nothing but air.  
  
"Orc trash," Dûriel pulled at the ropes that bound her hands. "Your brother deserved a more painful end," she spat at Armarth's feet. "He wasn't worth the steel I ran him through with and neither are you." She knew very well her bold words could get her killed. She also knew Amarth. Her cousin wouldn't lose his temper that quickly. Even if he did, he would simply fabricate a longer, more painful torture to put her through rather than snapping her neck now and missing out on her screams later.  
  
"Post a guard," the dark look that passed through Amarth's eyes told Dûriel all she needed to know. He would deal with her when he was ready.  
  
Amarth strode leisurely back to his fire. Despite the fact his company was close – dangerously close – to Imladris made no difference to him. He and his men could disappear with in a minutes notice of anyone approaching. His main concern now was Dûriel.  
  
The she-elf was strong, but he would greatly enjoy breaking her iron will. As children, the had grown up hating each other. Their parents had never understood; they didn't have to. Many times, such things were encouraged in their culture. Hate led to intense competition. Competition, in turn, led to progress.  
  
Amarth shook his head. Had he not hated her, Dûriel would have been someone he would have looked up to. Her agility, intelligence, and skill with weapons made her a dangerous enemy. They could have made her an indispensable ally.  
  
"Fate is an odd thing..." he trailed off, his thoughts interrupted by a commotion to his left..  
  
Dûriel stiffened at her guards approach. Lómë was a cruel elf, well known for his treatment of prisoners.  
  
"I told you I'd one day have the pleasure of breaking you." Lómë gloated above her. Dûriel could think of nothing she would enjoy more than killing him. She watched him finger the sword hilt at his side. "A fine weapon," he commented noticing where her gaze rested. The sword belonged to her.  
  
"You'll never have the pleasure." She swung her feet up to hit him in the back of the knee. He toppled to his knees, giving her enough of a chance to clamp her thighs around his throat in a death grip. "You won't live to see the moon rise tonight."  
  
Lómë gasped for air, his fingers clawing at Dûriel's legs. He had no dagger's on him, and the sword could not be pulled from it's sheath. Nor would he be able to use it if he could.  
  
Black and red spots floated passingly through his vision as Dûriel tightened her hold on him. She was staring him in the eye. His violent struggles had ceased with the lack of air. Thankfully, he had made no cry of alarm when she had felled him.  
  
"Pathetic really," she muttered. "I'd have thought you would be harder to kill. It takes away all the satisfaction." She twisted around after releasing Lómë and began to slowly drag her sword from underneath him. Quiet curses accompanied the action. Her wrists chafed against the rough rope tied around them.  
  
When she had drawn the blade out far enough, she put her hands over the sword with the blade touching the rope. She moved her arms back and forth. The cutting was both clumsy and awkward but served it's purpose.  
  
Dûriel left the rope where it fell and buckled her reclaimed sword around her waist. Much to her disgust, she was forced to tighten the belt several notches before it fit comfortably. Amarth had starved her for weeks. It would have given him great pleasure to see the effects.  
  
Sliding easily into the forest shadows, it was several minutes before she came up the first border guard. Her foot snapped a twig, alerting him to her presence.  
  
"Too late now," she muttered. "They shouldn't have left you out here all alone, Serke." She stepped slowly from the shadows. The mid-morning sun shone through the think branches over head just enough to reveal her identity.  
  
"How did you get free?" Serke stepped forward brandishing a dagger.  
  
Dûriel gave him a sultry smile full of feminine charm. "I couldn't let Amarth kill me without saying good bye." Taking advantage of his surprise, she grabbed the hand holding the dagger, pulled him forward, and kissed him soundly on the lips. She wrapped one hand around his neck; at the same time, freeing his second dagger from its sheath.  
  
Serke never fully realized what happened. He felt a sudden agonizing pain in his back. The light slowly faded from his eyes as he uttered a low moan and fell to his knees. Dûriel cursed. That groan would alert the whole camp. She sprinted forward, praying to whoever was listening that there was no one else to block her escape.  
  
Several minutes passed before she heard the sound of pursuit. She had known it wouldn't take very long for Amarth to put things together. Shouts followed her haphazard footsteps toward the River Bruinen. Skidding to a stop at the edge of a small cliff, Dûriel could see the river winding bellowing her. They had camped close to the border than she had thought.  
  
"You're very clever, my dear," Amarth stepped out of the trees with one hand on his sword. He hardly seemed out of breath. "I'll have to post a better watch next time.  
  
Dûriel could feel the empty space below her heels. The only thing that kept her from teetering backwards was her balance. "There won't be a next time."  
  
Cold water rushed over her head and swept her down stream. She would remember the surprised look on Amarth's face for the rest of her life. He had never expected her to jump.  
  
Her head came out of the water suddenly. Dûriel shook the water from her eyes and let the river take her where it willed. The current had slowed considerable due to a widening in the river bed. Her feet drug against the bottom. Standing, she began sloshing toward the rocky shore. A submerged long caught her foot and sent Dûriel splashing back under the water. The she-elf sputtered to the surface again after freeing her left.  
  
The sound of many pounding hooves made her freeze. Amarth did not have horses with his company nor could he have arrived so quickly. Several yards downstream a white horse bearing a dark-haired she-elf and what looked like a child bounded over the small incline bordering the river and across the shallow ford. Dûriel's shock only deepened at the sight of nine riders in black.  
  
"Nazgul," she whispered as the cold-icy fingers of fear seized her entire being. She had heard the terrible stories about theses wraiths.  
  
Unable to move, Dûriel could only stand in the knee deep water, watching and hoping she was not seen by either party. If she was caught by the nine, she might be taken as a slave to Mordor. On the other hand, a Moriquendi elf caught on the borders of Imladris would raise instant suspicion and alarm.  
  
"Take the lesser of the two evils." She was distracted from further planning by the hiss of a sword being drawn.  
  
"Give up the hafling she-elf!" The Witch King's snake-like voice sent shivers of terror up and down Duriel's spine.  
  
"If you want him, come and claim him!!" The strange she-elf's voice was unwaveringly defiant. The nine drew their swords as one, and, as one prodded their black steeds forward into the water.  
  
The she-elf lowered her sword slightly and closed her eyes. "Nin o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer; rimmo nin Bruinin dan in Ulaer! Nin o Chithaeglir last beth daer; Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer!" The she-elf's voice seemed to fill Dûriel's head. The elvish chant echoed off the rocks and the cliff walls upstream. She glanced down at the water as a slight tremble in the river bed shook her slightly off balance. A low rumble could be heard and it grew louder. Dûriel turned to look upstream when the rumble grew to a roar. Her eyes widened as a white wall of water rushed toward her.  
  
She screamed. The rushing torrent hit her like a ton of bricks. Her mouth filled with water as she was sucked down toward the bottom. The water tossed her about, breaking bones as it swept her down stream. Her head struck a large rock on the riverbed, knocking her unconscious. 


	2. Questions

[b]Questions[/b]  
  
Athrun scanned the length and breadth of the Bruinen. No sign had the search group found of the Nazgul except dead horses and one wet, tattered, black cloak.  
  
"Do you see anything?" Lord Glorfindel pulled his horse to a stop several feet away. The animal blew as it chewed on the bit.  
  
"Nothing," Athrun shook his head. "The enemy has fled, milord."  
  
The elf-lord nodded after a moment. "Very well. Return to the city. I'll inform the rest that they are free to go." Glorfindel gave Athrun a friendly salute and trotted back upstream.  
  
Athrun surveyed the water for several more minutes. Something in his gut told him he was missing something. Shaking his head, he moved further downstream. It would not hurt to be overly thorough.  
  
The rocks and gravel crunched under his feet as he walked. He had only his thoughts for company. Athrun paused to watch the water swirl and splash its way down a small waterfall. A deer raised its head, water dripping from its snout, to survey him warily. The elf ignored it and continued moving down stream. Once again, his attention was drawn to the water as if it was calling him.  
  
Thick brambles had grown up from the opposite river bank, letting their leaves and branches trail carelessly in the current. A large black object was caught in the midst. From his view point, it looked like another  
  
Athrun set his quiver and bow on the ground "We'll have to extend the patrol now," he muttered as he waded into the waist-deep, chilly water to retrieve it. It took him several minutes to cross the uneven river bottom.  
  
"By the Valar!" Athrun was shocked to see not a cloak but a seemingly lifeless body caught among the brambles. He carefully disentangled it and rolled it over. To his great surprise, it was an elven woman. A beautiful elven woman at that. He shook the last thought away as he carried her to the bank. She was light and thin – too thin – and the bones of her cheeks stood out in her face unnaturally.  
  
Laying her gently down, Athrun put a finger to her throat. A faint, fluctuating pulse gave him very little hope. He immediately focused on getting her to breathe. He gently rolled her onto her side; silently hoping it would dispel the water from her lungs. When nothing happened, he placed his mouth over hers and blew.  
  
She coughed several times, each time bringing up water and, once, a little blood. Her eyelids fluttered slightly before she lapsed back into unconsciousness with a groan. As he watched her, Athrun thought each slow breath she took looked painful. He picked her up with one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. His bow and quiver would have to wait unless he found someone he could send back for them. Wit his luck, everyone would have already gone home by now.  
  
Ariel folded the last of the sheets with a sigh. The Houses of Healing in Imladris had not had a guest for many years. It was a good thing she supposed with a shrug. The young Hobbit that now resided none to peacefully under her care was deathly ill. Lord Elrond had spent hours in the room treating him.  
  
Stepping quietly, Ariel placed her ear against the door and listened. The rustling of clothing was all she hard for several moments. She sighed and turned back to the basket of laundry. The sheets needed to be placed in their respective closets. It was a chore she had done countless times and did not relish doing again.  
  
"We need to find someone younger to do this. I'm getting too old to put sheets on the top shelf." The elves of Imladris had long ago become accustomed to Ariel's complaints about age. She looked no older today than she had looked on the day of her coming of age.  
  
"Ariel!" The she-elf was thankfully distracted from her dull task.  
  
"What is it Athrun?" she asked turning around. "Oh my!" She was met by the sight of Athrun carrying a soaking wet she-elf who looked like she was hanging onto life by a thread. "Where did you find this one?" She motioned for him to follow her as she moved quickly down the hall and into one of the many empty bedrooms of the Healing wing.  
  
"In the river." Athrun set her gently on the bed. "She was half-drowned when I found her."  
  
Ariel began bustling about the room gathering things. "Get out! I'll get the details from you later. Go find Lord Elrond and tell him he has another to deal with."  
  
Athrun reluctantly did as he was told.  
  
Several Days Later   
  
Elrond closed the door behind himself wearily. He had not been prepared to care for two ill people at once. Once of them being a strange she-elf with a nasty gash on her head. All of her wounds had healed quickly. The gash had left only a faint scar, and her broken ribs would be tender for several days.  
  
"How is she, my old friend?" Gandalf strode up next to him as Elrond made his way to his private library for some peace and quiet.  
  
"She will survive. Though, I expected her to wake before long before now." A worried look passed over his face. "She should have woken before Frodo."  
  
The wizard surveyed Elrond for several minutes. "That is not that only thing troubling you." It was a statement as well as a hint.  
  
"She is a Moriquendi, Gandalf; one of the Agarwaen. We have neither seen nor heard of them for many centuries. The calluses on her hands say well enough that she is skilled with both sword and bow." Elrond sighed. "I fear what her presence may portend."  
  
"There is one other question that remains unanswered." Gandalf nodded for he too had questioned her presence. "Why was she in the river when Arwen called down the flood? If not for Athrun, we would know nothing of her."  
  
Elrond sighed. "She is the only one who can answer those questions. Until then, all we have is speculation."  
  
A gold light filtered through her eyelids. The sound of birds singing and the low murmur of voices filled her ears. She slowly opened one eye, then, the other. Her gaze was met by a blue one.  
  
"Oi! She's awake!" The eyes bounced off her bed, jarring her and making her heard begin to pound.  
  
"Peregrin Took!!" The sound of an angry female cut short the laughter and pattering feet. "I told all four of you to stay out of that room. There is a sick lady in there!"  
  
"We just wanted to say hello." An oddly accented voice that had not a hint of fear or remorse in it answered. "Besides, she's awake now. That means she's not sick any more right?"  
  
She vaguely wondered how long she had been asleep. She could not remember anything. When she tried to remember why she was sick, her memory was a blank wall.  
  
"Milady?" Ariel stuck her head in the door to see if Pippin was lieing. "You've got four admirers out here who would like to meet you."  
  
Because she did not have anything better to do, she nodded and sat up. She was surprised to see four child-like men come bounding into the room and onto her bed. "Oh! Don't do that." She put a hand to her aching head.  
  
"Sorry." They all four chimed in at once.  
  
"You slept for a really long time," one of them leaned forward and looked hard at her. "Longer than Frodo here and that's saying a lot!" He pointed at one of his companions. "I've never heard of an elf out-sleeping a Hobbit!"  
  
She laughed. "You must be Pippin." The Hobbit nodded. "Who are the rest of you?"  
  
"I'm Sam." The chubbiest of the four raised his hand shyly.  
  
"I'm Merry!!" The strawberry-blonde curls bounced as he nodded.  
  
The one called Frodo smiled at her. "What's your name?"  
  
She paused trying to remember. "I don't know." 


	3. The 3rd Degree

The 3rd Degree  
  
The Hobbits stared at the she-elf in shock.  
  
"How can you not know your name?" Merry finally broke the heavy silence. "Do you know where you're from?"  
  
Her face went completely blank and still. She blinked. "No, I don't remember anything. I don't know where I am or how I got here?" A panicked note came into her voice.  
  
"Alright, little masters." Ariel began herding the Hobbits off the bed. "You've tired the Lady enough for one day. Out with you!"  
  
"How soon do you think you can have it done?" Athrun asked the smithy, referring to the incomplete throwing dagger that the smithy held in his hand.  
  
"I could have it done in a day, but if you want it perfected, give me two, the smithy said, judging his incomplete work with an appraising eye.  
  
"Fine; two days. I return then for the finished product," Athrun nodded to the smithy and turned on his heel. Two days; he had hoped to get it sooner, but he preferred to have a perfected weapon not a hurried one. He strode down the long open hall purposefully, nodding politely, but somewhat coldly, to the giggling and staring elf maidens as they passed. As he drew near to the end of the hall, something made him stop short. His sharp, elven ears caught the sound of gossiping voices down another hall. Normally he would have simply ignored them, but they were speaking of the she-elf that he had pulled from the river. He realized that he had almost completely forgotten about her, and the injured hobbit, until that moment. He stayed where he was, listening as the two women gossiped away, uncaring about who might be listening.  
  
"Did you hear about the she-elf they pulled from the river?!"  
  
"Aye! I heard that it was actually one of those wretched Moriquendi!"  
  
"You don't say!"  
  
"Aye! Lithiren overheard it from Lord Elrond this morning in the house of healing and told me all about it!"  
  
"Well she should be of little threat though; after all, she is unconscious still."  
  
"Oh no; I heard she woke but a short while ago."  
  
"You must be joking!"  
  
"Nay! I'm not! Go see her yourself!"  
  
"Oh, I dare not do such a thing! Why does Lord Elrond even keep her here?!"  
  
The voices moved past, and Athrun stood there for a moment, his face unchanging. He didn't trust two gossiping women as his sources of information, but was she really a Moriquendi? It was possible....Athrun changed his course, heading down a separate hallway towards the houses of healing. It couldn't hurt to take a look himself.  
  
Athrun slowed his steps as he neared the room where he had left the she- elf, his steps ever silent as most elves. He paused, his hand on the curtain, but then stopped and raised a hand to knock on the wooden door frame, to announce his presence. His actions were halted altogether by the sound of many voices in the room. So she really was awake.  
  
"How can you not know your name?" A shrill voice with a heavy accent drifted through the curtain, "Do you know where you're from?" There was a long silence.  
  
"No, I don't remember anything. I don't know where I am or how I got here?" There was a panicked note in the distinctly female voice.  
  
Another female voice began ordering people out of the room, claiming they had tired the lady enough for one day. Four Hobbits immediately piled out almost knocking Athrun over. "Oh, excuse us." One of them commented before they all dashed away down the hall talking about the elf that didn't know her name.  
  
Ariel said nothing for several minutes after the Hobbits left. The she-elf simply sat in the middle of her bed with her hands in her lap staring at the white, rumpled sheets. "Milady, do you truly remember nothing?" Ariel decided to be direct. It was the only thing she could think of to do because there was no gentle way to pose the question.  
  
"I remember nothing except this morning. The rest of it is a blank wall of nothingness." A single tear rolled down her pale cheek. "I know I should have memories and a name, but they're not there."  
  
"Oh dear," Ariel clasped her hands in front of her and continued to pace. Never in her life had she hard of an elf losing their memory completely. "We must tell Lord Elrond," she thought out loud.  
  
"Why?" The she-elf looked at her nurse sharply. "Why does anyone else have to know?"  
  
Ariel looked at her, surprise in her grey-green eyes. "Because he is the Lord of Imladris and the one who healed you, with help from Lord Aragorn." The last was an afterthought. "And people will ask questions! You can't say 'I don't know.' to their questions. It would only make them suspicious, you being a Moriquendi and all."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A Moriquendi."  
  
"What does that have to do with it?" She wiped away the last of her tear.  
  
Ariel paled slightly and wished she had held her tongue. "Never mind. What we ought to be worrying about is what we're all supposed to call you." Ariel smiled. "I imagine you'd get tired of being 'Lady' all the time." She laughed nervously.  
  
The she-elf shrugged. "It doesn't really matter."  
  
"Of course it does!" Ariel proceeded to rattle off a list of names she thought would be suitable. None of them appealed to her sullen companion in the least. She finally sat down on the edge of the bed in exasperation. "What would you like to be called?"  
  
The silence stretched until it seemed as if there was a fragile wall of glass in the room that the slightest word, movement, or breath could shatter it into a million pieces.  
  
"Erebwen-en-Mornië." The she-elf's voice was so quiet, Ariel was not sure she had spoken at all.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
Her charge turned her head a fraction of an inch. "Mornië. Erebewen-en- Mornië."  
  
Ariel was silent, not knowing what to say. Her thoughts, however, refused to be quiet. "Lonely Maiden of Darkness. How appropriate."She finally found her voice. "Well, it's different."  
  
Mornië gave her a small smile. The tiny twinkle in her eye told Ariel that that was exactly what she had wanted.  
  
Athrun remained frozen outside the door, not caring that he was eavesdropping on a supposedly private conversation. "So she remembers nothing? Then I suppose we won't be finding out what she was doing in the river any time soon." He heard footsteps approaching, and suddenly he realized that he shouldn't be there. With one quick move, he stepped back behind a curtain out of sight, and waited until the footsteps had passed. He realized how ridiculous all this hiding and spying about would appear. After all, he lived here; she didn't. He stepped back out from behind the curtain and started down the hall, not even pausing at the she-elf's door. Now was definitely not the time to be bothering the woman. What had even compelled him to come see her in the first place?! He shook his head in disgust at his own behavior and left quickly, before anyone spotted him.  
  
Frodo flipped through Bilbo's book. The maps, drawings, and sketches were beautiful; their painstaking detail made them all the more life-like.  
  
He turned another page and found a map of the Shire. His beloved Shire. "I miss home." He mused aloud, running his finger over the think black line that marked the Brandywine. "But it's nice to know that it's waiting for me. Safe and perfect."  
  
Bilbo smiled sadly at him. "Keep that hope with you, lad."  
  
"I wonder what it would be like to not know who you are or where you came from." Frodo's thoughts of home brought to mind the she-elf he and his companions had met earlier.  
  
Bilbo looked at his adopted heir curiously. "What makes you ask that?"  
  
Frodo shrugged. "There's a young she-elf who was in the Houses of Healing the same time I was. The four of us - Merry, Pippin, Sam, and myself – visited her this morning."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" The old Hobbit was rather confused.  
  
"She's lost her memory, Bilbo; doesn't remember anything, not even her name."  
  
Bilbo sat down on the low, stone bench with a heavy sigh. "Frodo, there are some things in life that we have no control over. You remember that, my lad." The elderly Hobbit could tell how much this strange elf's situation was bothering Frodo. "There isn't always a reason for everything that happens, but, if there is, it will come at the proper time."  
  
Frodo nodded as he closed the book. He stared at the leather, embossed cover without really seeing it. He had thought about his own situation many times. He hadn't lost his memory, but he felt like he had lost his life. "I wish I could forget for a while. It would make things so much more simple."  
  
"Simple maybe, but the problems would still be there later. Things don't just disappear."  
  
"I just wish they would sometimes." Frodo was feeling depressed and sorry for himself and he knew it.  
  
"Listen, lad, there's not use in you going around like this here. You should enjoy yourself for the time being. Nothing can harm you here." Bilbo patted him on the shoulder. "There's to be a feast tomorrow night; you can introduce me to your lady-elf friend."  
  
THE NEXT DAY   
  
Mornië slept peacefully through the night. The morning sun peaking through the eastern window woke her much more gently than the Hobbits had the day before. Sitting up slowly, favoring her recently healed and still bruised ribs, the she-elf slowly climbed out of bed. Ariel had made her rest all day the day before. Today, she would have none of it.  
  
There was a tall, wooden clothes chest in the corner. Not knowing what else to do, she padded silently across the floor toward it. Opening it slightly, her gaze was met with silk and lace dresses. Mornië wrinkled her nose. She opened both doors and began digging through the miscellaneous articles of clothing until she found what she was looking for. A pair of black trousers, a cream-coloured blouse, and a sky-blue, sleeveless tunic that reached down to her upper thighs.  
  
She decided to let her hair hang loose before wandering out the door into the hall. There was no one else about that she could see. Shrugging, she wandered out onto a terrace and down the stairs. Birds sang and twittered in the trees as she followed the paved path under their branches, humming a nameless tune. Mornië soon found herself in a garden with a fountain in the centre. The fountain had a stone deer with its head bent as if drinking from the water in the basin at its feet. It was a calming and peaceful place that she would have to remember for later days.  
  
Mornië walked towards the fountain slowly, enjoying the quiet peacefulness of the garden, only broken by an occasional bird and the splashing of the water. She failed to notice, until she was nearly to the fountain, that she was not the only one enjoying the solitude of the garden. Ahead of her, leaning in the shade of a tree, was an elf. She noted the dark hair that fell around his sharply chiseled face, and the definition of his tense arms that remained crossed over his chest. His face was serious and brooding, and it appeared that he didn't want to be disturbed. Slowly, Mornië started to retrace her steps down the path, when a deep voice startled her.  
  
You don't have to go." The elf didn't move from his positing except to look up. "What's your name?"  
  
Mornië regarded him silently before answering. "I don't know my real name. For now, Mornië suffices until I remember."  
  
The elf just nodded, considering her with cold, blue-grey eyes. "You can call me Athrun," he said simply, moving from his spot under the tree and moving towards her. "I was beginning to wonder when you would make it out of that room," he commented dryly.  
  
"How did you even know I was here." She was slightly shocked. "Unless, the Hobbits told you. Or Lord Elrond."  
  
"No, and not likely," Athrun responded to her two guesses, "I'm just a warrior and a scout. Lord Elrond has better people to be talking to of late, such as wizards and princes. As for the Hobbits, I knew about you long before they did."  
  
Mornië thought she saw a sparkle of amusement in his eye, though his face didn't change. "Then how?"  
  
Athrun shrugged, deciding not to tell her that it was him who had pulled her from the river. It wasn't relevant. "Rumors fly fast," he said brushing off her questions.  
  
"Rumours? Now I'm not very sure I want to know." Mornië knew he was lying. "If you'll excuse me."  
  
"Where do you intend to go?" Athrun asked, not moving to follow her. Mornië shrugged; she hadn't really thought about it. She certainly didn't know her way around this place. "Let me show you around." The offer took her by surprise.  
  
"Well," Mornië didn't really know what to say. "um..."  
  
"Good." Athrun accepted her lack of answer as a yes. "Shall we?" He offered her his arm with a mock bow, the corners of his mouth curled up in what might have been a smile, but Mornië wasn't sure.  
  
"What are you up to?" Mornië didn't take his arm. She just watched him.  
  
"Is there a law against escorting a lovely young woman through a strange city?" he asked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. He was hoping that the "lovely young woman" remark would throw her off as it did many women.  
  
Mornië raised one of her own eyebrows at him. "There is if you don't know the woman and she doesn't know you." She shrugged. "Besides, one of the best ways to get to know a place is to get lost in it."  
  
"Perhaps, but Moriquendi aren't very trusted here, and you're sure to find that many of the city's citizens won't hesitate to take advantage of you," Athrun noted the puzzled look on her face. i"She's either a very good actor, or she truly doesn't know what I'm talking about."/i  
  
"Why does everyone automatically assume I'm a Moriquendi? /i don't know what I am." Mornië could feel herself growing angry.  
  
"Whoa, slow down!" Athrun soothed her. If looks could kill, he would have been dead. "Why so angry?"  
  
"Because I don't even know what they are!"  
  
Come now, you're kidding right? Everyone knows what the Moriquendi are," Athrun dug deeper.  
  
Mornië threw up her hands. "Do I look like I'm kidding? Ariel mentioned them yesterday, but she didn't tell me what they were."  
  
Athrun looked at her sceptically. "I find that a little hard to believe. No elf has ever completely lost their memory. Moriquendi or not."  
  
"Even if I was one of these 'Moriquendi', why would it matter?!" Mornië was practically seething at this guy's line of questioning.  
  
"So you don't deny that you are a Moriquendi?" Athrun could tell he was getting under her skin, but he didn't stop.  
  
"I never said that!"  
  
"But you never said you weren't!"  
  
"I told you, I don't remember!"  
  
There was an uneasy pause as Athrun's steel blue gaze clashed with Mornië's own angry eyes. "Do you?" he finally asked, accusingly.  
  
"How dare you ask me that? You don't know anything about me, and... and... I don't either!" Mornië, much to her embarrassments, began crying; hot, angry tears.  
  
"Athrun! You should be ashamed of yourself!!" Ariel had been standing nearby, listening for several minutes, completely shocked.  
  
Athrun rolled his eyes and took a step back, knowing what was coming.  
  
"You... you." Ariel was so angry she couldn't think of anything to say. "She is a guest in Imladris, and she has only recently recovered from grave injuries and here you are questioning her!!" She waved her arms around as she spoke. "And, to top that off, you made her cry!!"  
  
Ariel... I was just..." Athrun tried to defend himself, but the older elf cut in.  
  
"I don't want to hear it!" Athrun bowed his head meekly, knowing he would just have to endure her storm. "I can't believe you would ever do something like this!" A wicked gleam entered Ariel's eye at that moment. Mornië looked like a frightened deer ready to take to her heels at any moment. She was frozen in place, however, staring at Ariel. "How do you propose to make it up to her?"  
  
The brooding look had returned to Athrun's face. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me," he said after a moment. Mornië was taken aback by how quickly the mask had fallen over his emotions. He was impossible to read now.  
  
"You must escort her to the feast tonight."  
  
Mornië groaned. "Not that! I'm not going!!"  
  
"Oh yes you are young lady," Ariel had taken command, "I insist. And Athrun! You will be escorting her. If you try to get out of it, you can be sure I'll find something else for you to do." Athrun rolled his eyes and nodded. There was no arguing with this woman.  
  
"You can't do that to me!" Mornië wiped her tears away. "Haven't I endured enough of him for one day?"  
  
Ariel smiled at her kindly, and then gave Athrun a warning glare. "Don't worry dear; he'll be on his best behavior." 


	4. Assassin

Assassin  
  
Amarth lounged carelessly by the fire. "I'll pay you for whatever new you can give me. Relevant news."  
  
"Oh, I assure you; it's relevant. In fact, I think it's worth more than the usual price," Thalion stood before the Moriquendi, not at all disturbed by the fact that he was surrounded by Amarth's men. Amarth would not harm his only contact within Imladris.  
  
"How much more do you want?" Amarth wasn't at all surprised Thalion was was asking for more money.  
  
"80 gold pieces," Thalion said without hesitation.  
  
"That's too much," Amarth looked at him like he'd grown an extra set of ears, "whatever information you have cannot possibly be worth that much. I will pay you 40."  
  
"Seventy," Thalion gave in a little. He hadn't expected Amarth to pay the 80, but the higher he started, the more he would get.  
  
"Fifty," Amarth countered.  
  
"Sixty," The two elves gazes locked for a moment.  
  
"Fine," Amarth motioned for one of his companions to count out the agreed amount, "But this information had better be worth it Thalion, or I warn you..."  
  
"Don't worry," Thalion assured him, "It's worth it."  
  
Amarth motioned to one of his men to give him the money. "60 is a lot. So tell me what you know. If I'm not satisfied, you get the regular amount."  
  
Thalion nodded in agreement, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "Does the name 'Mornië' mean anything to you?" Amarth looked unimpressed. "Ah, I guessed not. But what about... Dûriel?" He saw Amarth's interest immediately, and laughed. "As I thought."  
  
"What about Dûriel?" Amarth was very careful. His facial expression became blank.  
  
"A she-elf has come to Imladris. She was pulled from the river by a friend of mine," Thalion considered his words carefully.  
  
"And?" Amarth was growing impatient.  
  
"She claims she has amnesia, but the woman fits the description you gave me of this 'Dûriel' of your's. She's going by the name 'Mornië', or so I've heard. It is my personal belief that she if faking amnesia in order to gain the protection of the elves of Imladris."  
  
He smirked. "That's sounds like Dûriel. She's a very good actress."  
  
"So," Thalion looked at the purse of gold suggestively, "My gold?"  
  
Amarth weighed the gold in his hand thoughtfully. After a moment, a sly grin crept across his face. "I'll tell you what Thalion," He said reaching into his own purse and pulling out some gold coins, "I will give you 90 gold pieces instead of 60.... if you can kill Dûriel." Thalion looked doubtful. "Simply make it look like an accident." Amarth shrugged nonchalantly. "It shouldn't be very difficult."  
  
"If I am found out Amarth, I will lead them back to you," he warned him.  
  
Amarth smiled coldly, "Then you're better not get caught, eh?"  
  
Athrun paced uncomfortably up and down the hall near Mornië's room. He couldn't believe he let Ariel do this to him. She of anyone should know about... "No," Athrun broke off his train of thought. He didn't want to think about it.  
  
Ariel closed the door of Mornië's room with a smug smile. It had taken her an hour almost to get the girl in to a dress, but she had succeeded in the end. Her hair had taken another hour. Shaking her head as she turned, she almost bumped into the pacing Athrun.  
  
"Well, I'm surprised to see you're actually here." Ariel looked him up and down. "At least you look decent."  
  
"Yeah... right... thanks," Athrun barely glanced at her, but stopped pacing.  
  
"Don't look so brooding. It's your own fault." Ariel couldn't resist thinking that he looked like a sulking child. "I'll leave you two alone now," Ariel started to leave, "Please at least try to act like a gentleman Athrun."  
  
Athrun paced for several more minutes after Ariel left. "Women," he muttered before tapping lightly on the door.  
  
"I'm not coming out!!" Mornië's voice sounded rather flustered.  
  
"Well I'm not going to wait out here all night," he growled.  
  
The door popped open angrily. "No one asked you to!"  
  
Athrun was speechless for several moments, while Mornië just stood there, blushing furiously and glaring at him.  
  
"What?!" she practically challenged him to say something witty or mean.  
  
"It's... err... you're... I mean..." Athrun stumbled over his words. Had Athrun not known better, he would have never recognized the beautiful creature that stood before him as the tough, pant wearing woman from earlier.  
  
Mornië swore in a very un-lady like manner. She should never have let Ariel convince her to wear this. Her gown wasn't one colour. It slowly changed form emerald green at the shoulders and bodice to midnight blue in the skirt. The sleeves had the same colour change and draped to the floor. From what she had seen of her hair, it was a glorious weave of braids and ribbons. "Stop staring." Mornië looked down at the floor.  
  
Athrun broke his gaze and coughed to cover the slip in his emotions. He mentally cursed himself for getting in this situation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was beautiful; she looked just like... Stop! That's a road that doesn't need to be gone down. He looked back up at Mornië, his face unreadable again. "Ready?" He offered her his arm politely.  
  
"Yes," this time, she did accept his arm. "Why do you do that?" she asked as he led her down the hall, toward the lights and music of the feast.  
  
"Do what?" he asked, a bit confused.  
  
"Mask yourself like that." She really didn't know why she was asking. "It's an almost tangible wall."  
  
The tensing of his arm under hers told her that she had just crossed a line that would have been better left uncrossed. There was an uncomfortable silence for several moments until Athrun's voice broke the silence again, his voice hard and icy. "That, is none of your business."  
  
Mornië mentally winced. "I'm sorry." Her tone went flat. "I shouldn't have asked." They walked in uncomfortable silence for several moments, the only sound the distant music from the banquet and the sound of the heels of Mornië's slippers on the stone floor.  
  
The banquet hall was a buzz of activity. Everywhere that Mornië looked she saw something new and intriguing. She quickly spotted the four Hobbits from yesterday making themselves at home and helping themselves to as much food and drink as they could get their hands on. She also spotted one or two other familiar faces, but for the most part she felt a bit out of place. For a change she was thankful for Athrun's presence by her side. He somewhat served as a shield to prevent people from bumping into her still sore and only partially healed ribs, and also kept her from having to talk to anyone.  
  
Merry and Pippin appeared out of nowhere and bowed most courteously to Mornië. "Milady, we were hoping we could have the honour of the first dances." Merry grinned at her charmingly.  
  
"I'd be delighted gentlemen," Mornië laughed, "However I doubt that I can dance with you both at once."  
  
"Then I'll dance with you first!" Pippin jumped up, stepping on Merry's foot.  
  
"You will not!" Merry pushed him back and took his place, "I'm first!"  
  
Athrun couldn't help but notice the look of desperation Mornië threw him as she was dragged off by the two hyperactive and arguing Haflings.  
  
"All right, who's the youngest of the two of you." She held up both hands to silence them. Pippin shot a smug and triumphant grin at Merry in answer. "Very well, then, I'll dance with Merry first."  
  
"Hey!" Pippin was indignant, "You can't do that!"  
  
"Oh yes I can!" Mornië had taken command of the situation, "And that's the way it will be, or neither of you will be dancing with me!" The Hobbits finally agreed, and Pippin sat back impatiently and watched as Merry tried to dance with the considerably taller elf, which proved to be a bit awkward on her part.  
  
She lost count after about 4 dances. As she passed him once again, she threw Athrun a glance that clearly said i'Get me out of here!'/i  
  
Athrun fought back a smirk and pretended not to notice her plea. Instead, he simply waved to her, as if to say ihaving fun?"/i He didn't know why he found it necessary to irritate this woman, but every time he was near her he was compelled to goad her on.  
  
He waited another 3 dances before finally rising from where he sat and going out to rescue her. "Excuse me sir," he tapped Pippin on the shoulder, "I am afraid I must steal this lovely lady away for a few moments." Pippin looked disappointed, but allowed Athrun to lead a now panting Mornië away. "Water?" he offered her a glass.  
  
"Thank you!" She accepted the glass and drank it down quickly. "Remind me never to make that bargain with them again."  
  
Athrun laughed dryly, "I should have warned you about that."  
  
Mornië glared at him, but then ducked behind him as she spotted Merry approaching again. "No, no, no!"  
  
Athrun would have laughed had she not been so desperate. "Care to take a walk with me in the garden milady?" he quickly offered her his arm as he always did, and Mornië was quick to accept this time.  
  
"I don't care where you go as long as it's away form the Hobbits." She didn't feel guilty in the slightest and only wished that the two didn't find another she-elf to victimize.  
  
Athrun and Mornië walked slowly, leaving the noise of the banquet hall behind as they wove their way down the paved paths of the garden. The night was dark, barely illuminated by a crescent moon shining faintly through the leaves above. Occasionally a torch lit the small path, but otherwise, it was all dark.  
  
"Thank you for rescuing me," Mornië smiled remembering the Hobbits. "I don't think my feet could stand being stepped on again."  
  
"Don't mention it," Athrun brushed off the comment, "Nobody deserves that much torture for an hour and a half straight."  
  
She laughed, light and bell-like. "It felt like it had been longer."  
  
Athrun surprised her by smiling; it wasn't much, but she knew she had seen it. The two walked in silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.  
  
"Ariel told me today that it was you who pulled me from the river." She said it very carefully so she could gauge his reaction. She didn't know if he would react as he had earlier. "Why didn't you tell me before?"  
  
"I didn't think it mattered," Athrun didn't look at her.  
  
"It does to me." She sighed. She had been afraid he would say that very thing. "I could've at least have thanked you."  
  
"Would it have changed anything?" he didn't like where this was going, "Besides, You have nothing to thank me for. I was doing my duty."  
  
"Men," she muttered under her breath. She knew he had heard and she didn't care. "Why can't you ever accept gratitude for something? Especially for saving someone's life!"  
  
"What does that have to do with the price of weed in the shire?!" Athrun could believe what he was hearing. Talk about women and mood swings! One minute she was thanking him, and the next she was insulting him!  
  
"It's almost selfish of you to be that way." Mornië moved a few paces away, wrapping her arms around herself not to keep out the cold, but because she was fuming inside.  
  
Athrun threw his hands up. "I just can't win with you! What is it you want to hear?!"  
  
"I don't know any more." her voice was almost inaudible.  
  
"Well when you figure it out, you be sure to let me know!" Athrun said sarcastically, turning on his heel and leaving her there.  
  
Mornië could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was dangerously angry. Why couldn't they have a conversation without arguing. She didn't care any more. She turned to go back into the hall but found herself lost in the midst of a garden. She and Athrun had wandered farther than she had realized.  
  
"I'd better head for one of the lights," she thought out loud, partially because it helped her think clearly, and partly because it made her feel less aware that she was entirely alone in the garden. She started down the path quickly, her nerves on edge. Athrun could get under her skin without even trying, and it drove her crazy.  
  
Suddenly she was pitched forward onto the ground, her foot caught on a loose stone. "Stupid..." she cursed under her breath and struggled to her feet, pulling the long flowing skirt up a bit. She knew she had probably ripped the material, but it didn't matter at the moment.  
  
Looking around, she suddenly found that she had completely lost her bearing. Hadn't there been a light over there just a moment ago? There was no sound anywhere except her own breathing and the beating of her heart. The light she had seen only moments ago had all gone out, were extinguished, or maybe they were just figments of her imagination. "Get it together, Mornië." She heard a slight rusting behind her and whirled. Her fists came up as a reflex. "Who's there." she thanked whoever was listening that her voice didn't tremble.  
  
The hair on the back of her neck prickled as a scent wafted past her on the air... That was smoke! The torches... The realization that they must have been extinguished purposely struck her like a ton of bricks. Her heart raced, and she could feel her legs shaking slightly. Slowly, hoping that if she was quiet she would go unnoticed, Mornië slipped her feet out of the awkward slippers she had been wearing and left them where she stood. If she had to run, she wasn't going to do it in those things.  
  
"Hello?" her voice sounded small in the silence. Her hand shook as she searched for the small knife she had hidden beneath her skirt, but she couldn't find it in the folds to save her life. She stiffened and screamed as two hands descended from behind and grabbed her arms. One arm wrapped around her middle, pinning her hands to her side while the other reached for a dagger. She struggled violently, stepping on toes and kicking shins as best she could from her inconvenient position.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, she threw her head back and it connected with something. She heard a crunch followed by a curse. The arm around her middle loosened enough for her to break free. She took to her heels immediately, dashing toward the trees as quickly as she could.  
  
Athrun was frozen in his tracks by a scream. That sounded like... Mornië! His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he couldn't move. It was happening again... No... Snap out of it! Athrun took off full tilt into the garden, searching for the she-elf. He could hear something crashing through the bushes, but then he could also hear another, heavier, form somewhere off to the left. Making a split second decision, he took off after the second person. Go for the source of the problem. A moment later, he crashed into another person, knocking them flat. One thing he knew for sure: it wasn't Mornië. He barely had time to recover when a fist connected with his jaw, stunning him for a moment.  
  
He recovered and countered with a solid blow to the man's stomach. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Athrun grabbed him with both hands and slammed him against a tree, revealing his face in the moonlight.  
  
"Thalion!" He let go of him in shock.  
  
"Athrun! Thank the Valar! I thought you were someone else!" He stood, clutching his stomach. "Where is she?! I heard a scream."  
  
Athrun snapped out of his daze and pointed in the direction he had last heard Mornië. He could still hear her crashing through the garden. He ran toward the sounds followed closely by Thalion. He was glad his friend was there with him to help if they found whoever had attacked the she-elf. By the sound of her footsteps, Athrun knew she was running blindly and that she was terrified.  
  
"Mornië!" He called out her name to try and get her attention. The sounds of her flight ceased, and there was silence for a moment.  
  
"Athrun?" her voice sounded small and scared.  
  
Athrun could have hit himself for being so stupid. He shouldn't have left her alone. But who would have thought there would be any danger to her here?! "I'm coming," He finally managed to say, "Stay where you are."  
  
Mornië had stopped running, but she was prepared to take off again if she had to. She didn't know how far she had run or where she was. Everything was still pitch black. She brushed up against a tree trunk and sank down with her back against it. Wrapping, her arms around her knees she waited. Her breath came in huge gasps; she fought to bring herself under control. Her mind tried to get a handle on what had happened. She could still feel her initial terror. Even in an elven paradise, she wasn't safe, and she didn't know why.  
  
"Are you alright?" She jumped when Athrun came through the bushes, followed by another person she couldn't quite make out in the dark. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head mutely in response to his urgent questioning. Athrun knelt down in front of her. "What happened?"  
  
She put her forehead on her knees. "I'd rather not think about it right now."  
  
"Come on," Athrun place an arm around her supportively, and helped her to her feet, "Let's get you out of here." He looked back at Thalion, who hadn't moved. "Thank you Thalion," he said quietly, "It looks like you managed to scare off whoever attacked Mornië." Thalion nodded, and faded into the night.  
  
Mornië winced and put on hand to her right side. She thought that maybe her attacker had re-broken one of her ribs.  
  
"What's wrong?" Athrun hadn't missed any of her actions.  
  
"My side hurts."  
  
He looked down to where her hand pressed against her side. In the same glance, he noticed that she was barefooted. "Where are your shoes?"  
  
His puzzled glance made her start laughing. "I took them off so I could run. Ow!" Her laughter sounded unnatural as it was born from relief and fear. "I don't know where they are."  
  
"Can you walk?"  
  
"You are not carrying me."  
  
Athrun never thought he would be relieved to see that glare. "Wouldn't dream of it," he brushed off her accusation, "I was just wondering whether or not I'd have to leave you here." "Well, she's back to normal," he thought to himself.  
  
The fear that leapt in to Mornië's eyes sent a sliver of guilt running through Athrun. "I'll walk."  
  
The two walked back to Mornië's chambers slowly, Athrun taking extra precautions for her sore ribs and bare feet. He could practically feel Mornië jumping at little shadows, though she hid her nervousness well. "Well," Athrun stood uncertainly with the she-elf outside her chambers. He didn't want to leave her after what had just happened in the garden. If that guy decided to come after her again.... he couldn't take another death that he could have knowingly prevented.  
  
"Why?" Mornië's voice made him look up. She looked mournful... confused... and angry.  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why me? Why would someone want to kill me?" she picked at a splinter in her palm with vengeance.  
  
"I'm not sure," Athrun confessed, "Maybe..."  
  
She looked up at him. "Maybe...?"  
  
"Maybe it's because you're a Moriquendi," He shrugged, inwardly hoping that it wasn't the reason.  
  
"Will you please just explain to me what these blasted Moriquendi are?!!" Mornië sounded completely and utterly frustrated as she went back to trying to extract the splinter.  
  
Athrun took pulled her hand away and examined the reddened spot where the splinter had taken root. "The Moriquendi," he explained, "are elves who never went to Valinor, and many of them became evil. It's also believed that a few made a compact with Morgoth and Sauron."  
  
"Ouch!" Mornië jerked her hand back as Athrun managed to pull out the offending sliver of wood. "So that's what this is all about? Because someone thinks I'm some kind of evil elven being?" She attempted to laugh, but knew that she had sorely failed.  
  
Athrun's face was dark. "It's serious Mornië; if someone wants to kill you, we need to find out who and why."  
  
"Well, when you find out, you let me know," She sounded miffed again at the reminder of her missing memories, and she turned to go into her room.  
  
She stopped and turned, a shadow of reoccurring fear in her eyes. There was a strained silence for a moment, until Athrun finally spoke. "What is it?"  
  
"What if he... you know... comes back?" She hurried on so he wouldn't get the wrong impression. "I'm not afraid of the dark, but I don't exactly have anything to defend myself with."  
  
Athrun said nothing for several seconds. She was, in a way, asking him for help. Something he really hadn't expected. "Here." He pulled a dagger from his boot.  
  
Mornië hesitated before taking it from him. "The guy was pretty big," she added doubtfully.  
  
Athrun took back the dagger and stuck it in his boot. "Moving up in the world, eh?" He drew his sword and looked at it. "Somehow I doubt that you can even wield this thing," he said with what might have been a smirk. He sheathed the sword again. "Tell you what, give me an extra blanket, and I'll sleep here by the door tonight so that no big bad scary men come get you," he teased.  
  
Mornië punched him in the shoulder and blushed. "I'm not scared," she muttered, but tossed him a blanket anyway. "Goodnight," she mumbled, burrowing down in the large soft bed. "'Nite," Athrun said softly from where he sat against the door. Moonlight drifted across the floor, and hours later, the first golden rays of the sun edged their way into the sky. 


	5. Changes

Changes  
  
Athrun cast a glance around the room, coming to rest on the sleeping form in the large bed. He had slept curled up in the doorway all night. He wasn't surprised in the least that Mornië still slept. There were no outward signs of her ordeal of the night before, but the fear he had seen in her eyes told him she would not son forget.  
  
He watched her sleeping face. "She looks just like Airin." he mused silently. Mornië's scream still echoed in his mind, the sound seeming all to familiar. It was a scream that had haunted him for nigh on three ages... and continued to still. He forced the memory down, trying to will it away. She looked so peaceful laying there; the gentle sun rays playing across her face.  
  
Mornië opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times before focusing on her surroundings. The first thing her eyes fell on was a large black shape standing in the doorway. She sat bolt upright, terror written all over her face.  
  
"Whoa! Easy!" Athrun stepped out of the light so that she could see him, realizing that she must have remembered the night before. "It's okay. It's just me."  
  
Mornië sighed and flopped back on the bed. "What? Like you're not enough to terrify a person?" she asked in jest.  
  
Athrun smirked. "If that's the case, I'll just leave then."  
  
"You have to!" Mornië threw a pillow at him. "It's well past time for me to get out of bed, and I need to change."  
  
Athrun gave a mock bow, and backed out of the room. "As you wish milady," he slowly closed the door behind him.  
  
Mornië climbed out of bed and surveyed herself in the mirror. She had forgotten to take her hair down before she had gone to bed and it looked like several small animals had made a nest of her head. "Gah! I'm surprised I didn't scare him," she muttered as she began untangling the braids and ribbons. "But then why should I even care?" she countered to herself, "It's not as if I need to impress him."  
  
It was several minutes before she tamed her mane enough to drag a brush through it. "There had better be something besides dress in there," she surveyed the dresser like it was a monster. She carefully opened one drawer and immediately slammed it shut with an expression of horror. "Oh Valar, no! Noway!" She tried the next one, and sighed with relief as she fished out a pair of loose black trousers and loose white tunic. Tossing them over one arm, she investigated the rest of the drawers. Finally she managed to compile what she thought was a decent outfit for the day; the trousers, the tunic, a loose dark blue over tunic that would drape to her knees, with two slits up the sides and silver trim, and a pair of soft dear-skin shoes. "This should do just fine."  
  
She dressed quickly, then rummaged through her room again trying to find something to tie her hair with. She brushed it again and began braiding it. Putting her leather tie in her mouth, she opened the door as she twisted the last few inches together.  
  
"Took you long enough," Athrun said dryly from where he leaned against the door frame lazily, "Sounded more like an epic battle in there than a woman getting dressed. Do you always talk to yourself?"  
  
"Yes!" She looked over her shoulder at the disaster she had left behind her and cringed. "Someone will clean that up, right?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"It looks like a wind storm went through there! What were you doing?" Athrun was trying very hard to hide his amusement.  
  
"Finding something other than dresses to wear!" she defended herself.  
  
"What's so wrong with dresses?"  
  
"Have you ever worn one?" she raised an eyebrow at him. To her utter shock and surprise, he began coughing and blushing profusely.  
  
"WHAT?!?" he regained his composure, "It was a bet! I lost." he crossed his arms defensively. "I was young then after all. You really can't blame me for getting in the situation. It was all Thalion's doing."  
  
Mornië doubled over with laughter. She leaned against the wall next to her as tears rolled down her face. "Ow!" She held her side and tried to regain control.  
  
"Careful," Athrun grinned, and helped her up, "We don't need you back in the house of healing any time soon.  
  
She giggled at the slightly pink tinge to his face. "How did you ever manage to live that down?"  
  
"I didn't," he turned red again, "Thalion still brings it up to this day. It was almost over 3 ages ago! We were both barely past adolescence at that point."  
  
"What was the bet this Thalion made with you?"  
  
"Uh... Oh look! Speak of the devil!" Athrun conveniently changed the subject as Thalion joined them in the the hall. "I believe you two met last night?"  
  
"We did?" Mornië looked slightly confused. "Oh, you were with Athrun when he found me."  
  
That would be correct milady," Thalion bowed politely.  
  
She tilted her head slightly to get a better look at him. She saw his bruised nose and immediately thought of how she had thrown back her head into her attackers face the night before. She assumed she had broken the man's nose from the sickening crunches she had heard. "How did that happen?" Mornië asked without thinking.  
  
"That would be my fault," Athrun spoke up, "I'm afraid I mistook Thalion for your attacker last night, and he did likewise. By the time we each realized who the other was we had pretty well pummelled each other, and the attacker had gotten away."  
  
Thalion ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that struck the she-elf as one of nervousness.  
  
"Lord Athrun!" her thoughts were interrupted by a voice from behind them.  
  
"Yes? What is it?" Athrun turned to face the messenger.  
  
"Lord Elrond wishes to see you immediately." Athrun nodded, and turned back to Mornië and Thalion.  
  
"Excuse me; I'm afraid we must part ways for a while. Thalion, would you be a friend and escort this lovely lady to the banquet hall for breakfast."  
  
Thalion smiled and nodded as Athrun turned to follow the messenger. For a moment, Mornië and Thalion stood there looking after him. "Well," Thalion finally broke the silence cheerfully, "Shall we?"  
  
She nodded and turned to walk away pretending she hadn't seen him offer his arm. There was something about him that set her on edge. It wasn't something she could put her finger on, but it was there in the back of her mind. "A warning flag, maybe." she thought.  
  
Elrond looked up from a book he was perusing though when he heard the polite knock on the door. "Enter." He smiled at Athrun when the elf stuck his head through the door.  
  
"You sent for me?"  
  
"Yes, I heard about some commotion in the garden last night that involved you. What happened?" The inquiring tone in Lord Elrond's voice and the expression on his face told Athrun that the Lord of Imladris was not angry and simply wanted to know about the disturbance in his keep.  
  
Athrun stood before Elrond respectfully. "It was concerning the Moriquendi she-elf that I recently pulled from the flood waters of the Bruinen," He explained. "She was attacked deliberately in the dark by an unknown assailant. Lord Thalion and myself happened to be in the vicinity, and responded to her cries for help, but by the time we had sorted things out, he was gone."  
  
"Deliberate attack? You mean to say it was planned?" Lord Elrond looked concerned, "Why do you believe it was deliberate?" Elrond trusted Athrun's judgement, but he was curious to know why he had come to this conclusion.  
  
"When I left the lady in the garden, there were several torches lit. I didn't fear leaving her there, even though she is new to the city because it would've been very easy for her to find her way back to the banquet hall." Athrun paused for a breath. "When I found her, all the torches had been extinguished and there was a slight smell of smoke in the air."  
  
"Very observant," Elrond commended, "Anything else?"  
  
"Instinct, my lord," Athrun wasn't afraid to admit that he had little hard evidence, "Something tells me it was planned, and not a random strike at the Moriquendi."  
  
Lord Elrond sighed and set his book on a nearby table. "Very well then. I don't want her left alone for any reason until we found out who and why. Because you have already somewhat befriended the maid, I want you to watch her." Athrun nodded. "You may go now," Elrond dismissed him.  
  
"Yes milord." Athrun turned on his heel and left the room.  
  
"Athrun's been awfully cheerful of late," Thalion commented as he and Mornië made their way through the long open halls.  
  
Mornië was incredulous, "You call /i cheerful? I'd hate to see what he's like normally."  
  
Thalion chuckled, and became semi serious again. "My dear, I haven't seen him laugh or smile this much in over an age; not until you came along."  
  
Despite her distrust of the elf beside her, she was curious. "Why is that?"  
  
Thalion frowned, and looked as though he had said something he shouldn't have. "Perhaps," he paused, "Perhaps that is something you should ask Athrun himself."  
  
Mornië bit back another question and accepted his answer. She stayed in the banquet hall for only a few minutes. Excusing herself, she grabbed some kind of pastry and an apple and began wandering the halls. She stopped to look at many of the wall murals, all of which depicted scenes from stories she thought seemed vaguely familiar. One in particular caught her eye. It depicted a man with a broken blade challenging an armored giant.  
  
"Mornië!" The four Hobbits converged on her from nowhere all at once.  
  
She groaned inwardly. "Mea govannen." She smiled at them. Pippin stole her apple as they dragged her down the hall.  
  
"We have something we want to show you. It's..."  
  
Merry was cut short by Sam clamping a hand over his mouth. "It's a surprise."  
  
"Oh, surprises," Mornië was less than thrilled, but grinned for the Hobbits sakes, "I love surprises." All four grinned triumphantly. Mornië let herself be led down a set of stairs, through a courtyard, and into, judging by the smell, the stable yard. "It's probably a pile of manure." she thought with disgust.  
  
"Close your eyes," Frodo stopped and turned to look at her.  
  
"Do I have to?" As much as she like the Hobbits, she didn't trust their mischievous natures.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She finally gave in and shut her eyes... partially. Even she knew better than to trust the Hobbits to pay attention to where they were leading her; especially since she was considerably taller than they were. Finally, after a few stubbed toes, and much giggling on Merry and Pippin's part, they came to a stop, in what Mornië presumed to be a pile of hay. "Open your eyes!" the Hobbits practically shouted in unison.  
  
She opened her eyes and was rewarded with the sight of four gamboling puppies about six weeks old. "Oh, they're cute." She sat down in the hay and immediately had all four of the animals in her lap. "And... hungry?" she moaned as one of the puppies promptly devoured her pastry before she could stop it. "There goes my breakfast."  
  
"Don't worry!" Pippin piped up. "There's always second breakfast!"  
  
The smallest of the puppies tried to settle down for a nap on her left leg while two others began washing her face. The fourth, having no room, jumped up on her shoulder from behind and began chewing on her ear.  
  
"Well well, what's this?" She jumped up at the sound of Athrun's voice, causing the puppy in her lap to tumble into the hay, from which she promptly scooped it up and cuddled it.  
  
"Aren't they adorable?" she held one up to him.  
  
"Oh yes," he offered a less than enthusiastic grin, "Absolutely... adorable." He just stood there as two of the puppies began to climb up his leg, while the last attempted to make a chew toy out of his boot.  
  
The four Hobbits cast sly glances at each other, and slowly crept out of the stall, leaving the two alone, and then ran as fast as their short legs could carry them. Their work there was done.  
  
Mornië kissed the puppy she was holding on his furry, golden head before setting him down and pulling another away from Athrun's boot. "Where did the Hobbit's go?"  
  
"Probably to find food." Athrun sat down beside her.  
  
"Pippin and one of these ate my breakfast," Mornië tried to ignore her rumbling stomach but it was a losing battle. She chuckled. "I was then informed that I could always wait for second breakfast."  
  
Athrun laughed. "Hobbits are like that. I hear they have up to eight meals a day."  
  
"No wonder they're so chubby. I think I'd explode."  
  
Athrun chuckled in agreement, scratching behind the ear of a puppy that had made itself at home in his lap.  
  
"So," Mornië changed the subject after a moment of silence, "What did Lord Elrond want with you?"  
  
"He wanted to know about last night." Athrun tried to evade her question.  
  
"And?" The smile faded from Mornië's face. "What did you tell him?"  
  
"The truth; what else," Athrun picked at a piece of straw.  
  
"What did he say?" Mornië could tell that he was dodging her questions.  
  
"Well," Athrun tossed the broken straw as far as he could, "I've been reassigned."  
  
Mornië was confused. "What to?" Athrun appeared to be completely absorbed with examining a piece of hay. "Well?!"  
  
He finally looked at her and attempted a grin. "I've been assigned as your body guard."  
  
"What?" She stared at him. "Why? I can take care of myself."  
  
"You know that's not what its about. You of all people should realize that," he reasoned with her, obviously not wanting to argue."It's about the fact that someone in Imladris tried to kill you, and until we know who, you aren't safe."  
  
"I can take care of myself!" Mornië insisted again. "  
  
Oh? You certainly took great care of yourself in the garden last night!" Athrun instantly regretted his sharp words.  
  
"I'm still here, aren't I?"  
  
"Yes, thanks to Thalion!"  
  
"I don't trust Thalion!"  
  
"That's besides the point Mornië!"  
  
She stiffened visibly. "Thalion didn't do anything to help me last night."  
  
"He scared away your attacker! Did that knock on the head really addle your brains that badly?!" Athrun could feel himself becoming edgy. "  
  
What if he was my attacker?!" Mornië challenged, finally voicing her suspicions. She saw something in Athrun's jaw jump, and knew that once again she had crossed a line.  
  
"I have known Thalion for over 3 ages of men, Mornië. I trust him," Athrun's voice held an icy tone that practically cut Mornië to the core. "The Thalion I know is not a murderer, and he certainly did /i attack you last night." She didn't trust herself to speak.  
  
Athrun looked away from Mornië, unable to stand the hurt in her eyes, caused by his harsh words. Neither spoke for several minutes, and the only sound was of the puppies playing about them; oblivious to the conflict going on.  
  
"Look," Athrun finally broke the silence, "I'm sorry Mornië. I just... I don't know what came over me. I don't want to fight with you." He covered her tightly clenched hand in his. "Forgive me?" His eyes pleaded with her. Mornië finally unclenched her hand and raised her head.  
  
"No, it's not your fault," she said quietly, "I didn't have any right to accuse you're friend that way. But I still don't trust him..." she muttered with a little grin.  
  
Athrun smiled with relief. "Don't worry about it. He takes some warming up to, but he's really a great guy. Tell you what," He added after a moment, lifting a sleeping puppy gently off his lap, "Why don't I take you for a private tour of the city?"  
  
"Is this the same private tour you offered yesterday?" Mornië began brushing the straw out of her lap.  
  
"Yeah," Athrun laughed sheepishly, "But I promise this time you get the whole thing."  
  
Thalion listened carefully, and he didn't like what he heard. Amarth would be none to please that he had failed to kill the girl the first time. The fact that she suspected him didn't things any easier.  
  
"But at least Athrun has no suspicions," he thought to himself. As long as Athrun had no inkling of his involvement, he was fine. No one would believe an amnesiac Moriquendi elf over himself anyway. His reputation was spotless, and anyone would simply brush her off as a liar. He only wished Athrun hadn't become as involved with the wench as he had. What he had told Mornië earlier was true. He hadn't seen him smile this much since before Airin was killed. 


	6. Beginings

Athrun led Mornië through the many rooms and passages of Lord Elrond's keep. The she-elf noted that he avoided the gardens, though, and, for that, she was grateful. The library held special interest for her. The History of Middle-earth was held between these leather bound books. History she had never known or had been wiped from her memory  
  
Athrun watched with interest as she poured through the books with rapt attention. He found it curious that she remembered some things, like how to read and write, but not others, such as her own name. She expressed even more interest in the maps. "Where was it you found me?" she asked, staring at one very large map of the entirety of Middle-earth.  
  
Athrun leaned over her shoulder, examining the map. "Right..." His finger roamed over the map, "Here." he tapped his finger on the paper.  
  
She looked confused. "But, there's nothing near there except Imladris, and everyone knows I didn't come from here."  
  
"We know nothing more about it than you," Athrun told her, knowing she was right, "Perhaps you floated downstream for a long ways, or were travelling." he shrugged.  
  
"I want answers, Athrun." Mornië sighed. "I want to know why I'm here; where I come from. Who I was."  
  
Athrun didn't say anything for a few moments. "You know what, this is depressing." He closed the book. "Let's go do something else. Thinking about your problem won't fix it, so we might as well make better use of our time," he reasoned, knowing his logic was warped.  
  
"What 'better use' are you thinking about?" Mornië was somewhat relieved to have her attention diverted.  
  
Well, let's see.." he thought for a moment, "What about the archery range? I could use some practice, and it would be interesting to see how you do with a bow."  
  
"Can't hurt. Where is it?" She smiled half-heartedly. This was the first time she had expressed any of the tumultuous thoughts that plagued her. Until now, she had hid her doubts and fears very well. She didn't know what had made her speak them aloud.  
  
"Follow me."  
  
"Why are we heading for the stables?" Mornië asked a few minutes later.  
  
Athrun laughed. "I see your starting to learn your way around," he commented, "The archery range is quite a ways away, so we'll have to ride there. If you'll wait here, fair lady, I shall return with our horse." He stopped at the door leading into the stables. Before turning, he paused. "If anyone tries to run off with you just scream and beat the bloody pulp out of him."  
  
Mornië cast him a withering glare. "Wait just a minute! Did you just say [i]our[/i] horse? Do I not warrant my own horse?!"  
  
Athrun rolled his eyes. "We don't even know if you know how to ride yet. Until then you will just have to ride with me."  
  
"You get hurt and Lord Elrond would have my head." Mornië glared at him sullenly.  
  
"Pity," she mumbled, but Athrun heard it and just grinned.  
  
Athrun soon had his horse, Huisuume, saddled with the swiftness of practice. He then de-strung two bows and lashed them to the saddle. "You better be on your best behaviour today." He grabbed the horses bridle and looked him in the eye. "You won't be throwing just me if you don't." The animal snorted and glared at it's master. "I mean it!" Athrun muttered as he led Huisuume out of his stall and toward the door. He could see Mornië silhouetted against the light but couldn't read the expression on her face. He instantly wondered if she had heard him talking to his horse.  
  
Mornië stared at the large black horse for several moments.  
  
"What? Don't tell me you don't remember what a horse looks like?" he asked jokingly.  
  
She hit him in the arm. "Of course I remember. Now help me up," she demanded.  
  
Athrun rubbed his arm, a look of mock hurt on his face. "Ow! See if I offer to take you to the archery fields again."  
  
The she-elf snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. "Please." Moving past him, she placed one foot in a stirrup and pulled herself up on the tall animal. To Athrun's surprise, Huisuume didn't react. Mornië reached down and patted Huisuume on his neck. "Are you just going to stand there?"  
  
Athrun quickly swung himself up onto the horse in front of Mornië and took the reins. "He's usually not this docile. I'd watch out. He's probably planning something."  
  
"Like master, like horse," she muttered looking for something to hold onto. With a little yelp as the animal started moving, she grabbed for the closest thing. Which happened to be Athrun's tunic. Not particularly caring how it looked or what he thought, she grabbed two handfuls of the cloth and hung on for all she was worth.  
  
The ride didn't last nearly as long as it felt. Mornië began to wonder if she had ever been on a horse. She knew her thighs were going to kill her the next day, and, as soon as Athrun pulled the horse to a stop, she jumped off.  
  
"We're going to have to work on that." Athrun smirked slightly as he tied Huisuume to convenient post anchored in the ground. After making sure the animal had enough room to move about and get to the grass, he pulled two bows from the saddle. "Here," he offered the smaller one to Mornië, "This one should be about your size." She took it, turning it over in her hands, feeling the smooth curve of the wood. It seemed so familiar...  
  
"Ready to give it a try?" Athrun asked, looking at her curiously.  
  
"Yeah," Mornië nodded, still examining the bow. It was like something she had seen in a dream, yet had no memory of. It tugged at the back of her mind like a nagging fly.  
  
"Hey!" Athrun waved a hand in front of her eyes, "Snap out of it."  
  
She shook her head, bringing her mind out of the fog it had descended into. "Sorry. I don't know what it was, but I felt like I was close to remembering..."  
  
Athrun studied her for a moment. "Don't try to push it. It'll come on its own," he reassured her. With a start, he realized that he really believed her claim of amnesia.  
  
"Doesn't matter." She ran her hand down the length of the bow. "It's gone now."  
  
Athrun watched Mornië put another arrow to the string and take aim. Her stance was perfect. She had an eye for distance that would make even a seasoned veteran green with envy. The initial surprise that had come when she had placed her first arrow directly next to his on the target still lingered in the back of his mind.  
  
"How am I doing?" Mornië turned to him.  
  
"Eh... good," was all he could manage. He was certain her earlier feeling of familiarity with the bow wasn't coincidence. He was relatively sure she must have been experienced with the weapon prior to her memory loss. The callouses on her hands were also testimony to that fact.  
  
"I have a proposal to make." Athrun motioned for her to set the bow down.  
  
"No," Mornië laid the bow carefully out of the way, "I won't marry you."  
  
"What a shame," Athrun smirked, "besides, that wasn't what I was going to say."  
  
"What then?" she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  
  
"I was going propose a challenge." Athrun pulled two daggers out of sheaths on Huisuume's saddle and offered them to her.  
  
"What kind of challenge?" Mornië accepted the daggers warily, weighing them in her palm, subconsciously feeling for their balance.  
  
"A friendly duel," Athrun gauged her actions, noticing that she didn't seem to even be aware she was doing them, "No blood, no injuries; whoever surrenders first loses." He gave her a moment to consider. "Shall we?"  
  
"Don't see why not." She shrugged. "I just hope I know what I'm doing."  
  
"I don't think you'll have a problem." Athrun produced two more daggers for himself.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Athrun shrugged. "You seem pretty confident with those things already; the way you've been handling them."  
  
Athrun took her by surprise as he turned and attacked suddenly. [i]"Go easy on her,"[/i] Athrun reminded himself. Mornië surprised him by fending off his attack with seeming ease. Apparently it surprised her as well.  
  
Mornië dropped one hand down from her block and swung her dagger at his middle to distract him while one foot hooked around his ankle in an attempt to pull him off balance.  
  
Athrun quickly recovered from his shock just in time to avoid her attack. [i]"Okay, so maybe I don't need to go so easy."[/i] He twisted nimbly under her arm and swung his dagger up towards her neck, stopping just millimetres short of its target. "You're dead," he whispered in her ear.  
  
"Really?!" Mornië twisted her foot behind his knee and pulled him to the ground. "I don't think so. I don't think so." She twisted so she landed sitting on his chest and placed her own dagger to his throat. "As far as I can tell, I'm still kicking.  
  
Athrun grinned wickedly, flipping her over his head, he quickly turning the tables. She was doing better than he has expected.  
  
He pinned both of her arms to the ground with his own. "Get out of this one if you can." Neither of the two realized that they had drawn quite an audience with their commotion, and they were now surrounded by a ring of curious and amused elves.  
  
She thought for a moment. "You're in a very vulnerable position, you know."  
  
The grin quickly disappeared from Athrun's face at the wicked spark in Mornië's eye, accompanied by a demonic grin. Taking advantage of his surprise, Mornië freed one of her arms from his grip and hit him in the chest with surprising force; enough to make him roll away in order for her to escape. However, he hadn't loosened his iron grip on her left hand,  
  
Mornië reached for a dagger with her free hand. She knew Athrun wouldn't let her get away with her little distraction that easily, but she had to at least try. Athrun shifted his grip, twisting her wrist at the same time.  
  
"You cheated," he smirked. He kicked the dagger out of her grasp and reached for one in his boot.  
  
"I didn't cheat!" Mornië made no effort to move or to get up, and Athrun still had hold of her wrist. She had almost visibly winced when he had twisted it.  
  
"Give up?" Athrun challenged. He could practically feel the eyes of the elves around them burning into the back of his head. If he admitted defeat to a she-elf, there would be no end to it. But then if he completely annihilated her, it also wouldn't look very good, especially seeing as he was supposed to be her body guard.  
  
She let her breath out in a whoosh. "No, I don't give up. I'm just out of breath, and I don't feel like moving at the moment. I'll kick your butt later."  
  
"You're still injured. We can call it a draw, and then neither of us need be humiliated before all these people," he nodded his head slightly towards the crowd that had gathered to watch.  
  
Mornië groaned. "We had an audience?" After a second, she laughed. "That's just great."  
  
"What, don't tell me you didn't notice," Athrun asked jokingly, "We're a hit!"  
  
"I'll hit you if you don't help me up."  
  
Athrun grinned and stood back up, holding out a hand to a still suspicious Mornië.  
  
Mornië watched with a mix of relief and sadness as the Hobbit began putting the final preparations on their gear. She had been told the day before, right after getting back from the archery fields with Athrun, that her four admirers were leaving the next morning.  
  
She wasn't going to missing their mischievous pranks or having her toes stepped on, but she was going to miss the cheer they brought with them. "Where are they going?" she asked Athrun, who stood beside her, quietly.  
  
"No one has said. But Lord Elrond looked worried yesterday when I went to give him my daily report." The two watched the Hobbits, as well as Prince Legolas, a ranger, a dwarf, and another man, in silence for a few minutes before Lord Elrond spoke.  
  
"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will." The Elf-lord paused for a moment. "Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."  
  
Mornië listened with a growing sense of dread. She wondered if Lord Elrond felt that he was sending the young Hobbit, Frodo, to his death. He had explained to her, as best he could, what it was he was supposed to do and why the evening before. Now that she understood the magnitude of what he had willingly volunteered to do, it pained her that he should have to carry the Ring. She had the distinct feeling that the care-free Hobbit she had come to know wouldn't be the same when he returned. If he returned at all.  
  
"The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer." Gandalf, the wizened and kindly wizard, motioned with his arm to the path leading through a carven, stone arch. His presence on this journey, was one of the only rays of hope Mornië saw in the bleakness of the quest. The brief encounter she had had with the wizard was enough to give her that hope.  
  
She watched Frodo turn slowly to face the gateway to the outer world. The gateway that would lead him possibly to his death. He took the first tentative steps before a mantle of stalwart resignation settled over his shoulders  
  
He straightened his back and walked through without a backward glance. There were two roads to choose from and the Hobbit paused trying to decide which way to go. "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"  
  
"You worthless piece of..." Amarth trailed off into a long string of curses, his boot finding it's target. Thalion gritted his teeth and attempted to rise to his feet. "It wasn't my fault! How was I to know she practically had a body guard?!" He was careful not to mention Athrun's name to Amarth.  
  
Amarth growled. "You weren't supposed to just rush at her from nowhere." He cursed some more. Dûriel should be dead by now and out of his way. "I warned you about her skills. If I had sent one of my own men, I'd have her head on a pole."  
  
"True though that may be," Thalion nursed his bloody lip and glared at Amarth, "None of your men can get into Imladris!"  
  
Amarth swore under his breath. He knew Thalion was right. Even if one of his men were able to get into the city, they would not be able to go unnoticed long enough to get rid of Dûriel. He was going to have to count on Thalion. "Don't fail me again!" he warned, making it clear that he was the one in charge, "If she tells anyone in that city about what she knows, we're all as good as dead!" Thalion nodded, still glaring at the larger elf. "Get rid of Dûriel, but do NOT arouse suspicion! Obviously you've never heard of something called tact."  
  
Thalion snorted. "If what you say about your men is so true, she never would have gotten near Imladris in the first place."  
  
Amarth barely restrained himself from hitting Thalion again. "She's one of the best. I'm surprised she didn't kill you when she had the chance."  
  
Mornië stared down into the water below her as she leaned on the railing of a bridge spanning a small tributary of the river. "I wonder how Frodo is doing?" She was thinking out loud and didn't realize it. Several weeks had passed since the company had departed, and no one had heard any news of them in that time.  
  
"I'm sure he's fine," Athrun replied absently, leaning backwards over the rail precariously as he looked up into the trees. She didn't say anything but mentally wished the entire company well, watching her reflection waver and ripple on the surface of the water. She snorted and dropped her forehead to her hands.  
  
"What?" Athrun looked over at her curiously, pausing his study of the clouds.  
  
"I'm going to make Ariel pay." she muttered not looking up.  
  
"What for?" Athrun wasn't following her line of thought, but he looked concerned for Ariel's safety.  
  
Mornië laughed as she raised her head and looked at him. "She took all trousers and shirts out of my room last night while I was asleep. Leaving me with nothing but this," she motioned to the ankle length dress she was wearing, "to wear. That's why."  
  
Athrun laughed. "Well I think you look very nice," he commented casually.  
  
Mornië coloured slightly, not sure how to respond. [i]"He's changed so much over the past few weeks,"[/i] she noted mentally. The relaxed boyish character that was now hanging haphazardly off of the bridge would hardly be recognized now as the cold brooding and distant elf she had met only weeks before. It could just be the fact that Lord Elrond had commanded him to protect her, but she almost got the feeling that he enjoyed being around her constantly. [i]"Is he like this with everyone once he gets to know them?"[/i] she thought curiously, studying him casually.  
  
As she studied him, she noticed just how far he was leaning out over the river. "You look hot Athrun," she suddenly stepped forward and gave him a shove.  
  
"Whoa!" Athrun tipped over the side, but latched onto her at the same time, sending them both toppling into the shallow water below.  
  
Mornië came up sputtering and fuming, pulling her soaking hair out of her eyes. "You'll pay for that! Just wait till I..." she stopped, spotting Athrun's limp form floating a few feet away face down. "Athrun!" She splashed through the water towards him, gathering up her heavy wet skirt around her knees.  
  
She dropped to her knees in the water and grabbed him around the shoulders, trying to turn his body over in the water. Before she knew what had happened, she found herself floundering under the cold water again, only to rise to the surface again almost immediately to be met by a highly amused Athrun. He laughed, falling back in the water, enjoying his revenge.  
  
"You...!" Mornië splashed him. "I thought you were actually hurt! See if I ever try to save your life again." she splashed him again.  
  
"Ah, so you [i]were[/i] concerned about me!" he laughed triumphantly.  
  
"I never said that! For all you know I was just checking to make sure you were dead!" Mornië countered.  
  
"Well now I'm just hurt. Does that mean I should leave?" Mornië shrugged as if she didn't care. "Do what you want."  
  
Athrun reached up and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. Without thinking, he laid quick, soft kiss on her lips. For what seemed like an eternity, neither of them moved, just standing there staring at each other; both trying to understand what had just happened.  
  
Mornië was the first to break the silence, hooking her foot around his ankle and sending him crashing back down under the water. "  
  
What?!" Athrun cried defensively, coming back up from the water almost immediately, "You told me to do what I wanted!"  
  
"You know that's not what I meant!" Despite her best efforts to look angry, Mornië didn't quite succeed. She pushed him back under. While he was still recovering, she stalked out of the water. "I'm going to go change and have a chat with Ariel about my clothing."  
  
Athrun grinned like a little boy and shook his head, falling back into the water and returning to his study of the clouds, feeling strangely happy. 


	7. Revelations

"Ariel?" Mornië stuck her head through the she-elf's door. She had changed and was now searching for her friend to see if she couldn't get her trousers back from whatever hostage situation the older woman had placed them in.  
  
"You're not getting them back." Ariel looked up from her embroider with a smile. "Don't even try to wheedle and cajole."  
  
Mornië sat down in an extra chair with a sigh. "What was wrong with my pants?!"  
  
"They're not lady like! You certainly don't see any other she-elves running around Imladris wearing trousers, do you?!" she glanced up from her needlework as she reasoned.  
  
"I suppose not..." Mornië reluctantly admitted, "But-"  
  
"But nothing," Ariel cut her off, "Besides; trousers do nothing in the way of attracting men." Ariel winked at her with a little grin.  
  
Mornië immediately thought of Athrun's kiss and brushed one hand against her lips. The action didn't go unnoticed by Ariel. "By the way, where is your 'bodyguard'?"  
  
She blushed involuntarily. "I suppose he's probably drying off still," she shrugged. "What happened to him, Ariel?" The question that had burning in her mind for the past few weeks rushed out before she could check it.'  
  
"Whatever do you mean?" Ariel visibly stiffened and looked at Mornië sharply.  
  
"You know what I'm talking about." Mornië stood and began to pace. "Why does he throw a mask over his emotions whenever someone brings up something he doesn't want to talk about?"  
  
Ariel sighed. She should have known Mornië would ask eventually. "Athrun will have my head if he finds out I told you," she warned.  
  
"What could possibly be that bad?"  
  
"Athrun lost someone very close to him, his betrothed. He was protecting her in a battle, but he was swept away in the fighting. When he was finally able to make it back to her hiding place, he saw her fending off an orc." Ariel stopped. She hadn't wanted to think about his any more than Athrun. "Athrun watched, frozen, as the orc plunged his sword into her, laughed, and ran off. I think he still hears her screams. He lost a part of him that day; nearly three ages ago in fact. A long time in the mortal eye, but I think he still remembers it like yesterday. He's kept himself shut off from everyone for so long. Not even his friend Thalion could reach him. If you were to ask me, I would say he's afraid of losing someone he loves again." she studied Mornië for a minute. "Until you came along that is. I think he sees something of Airin in you, to tell you the truth."  
  
Mornië sank slowly back into her chair. Now that she knew, she regretted the knowledge she had asked for. She wished she could turn back time, but it was already too late for that. "I... I'm going to go to the library. I need to think."  
  
She rose quickly and rushed from the room, nearly knocking over a surprised Athrun in her distraction as she left. [i]"What was[/i] that [i]about?"[/i] he wondered, puzzled. Looking after Mornië as she disappeared down the hall, he slowly stepped into Ariel's room. "Anything I should know about?" he questioned in bewilderment.  
  
Ariel raised a tear-stained face to Athrun. "She knows, Athrun." She wiped away a tear. "She asked me, and I had to tell her."  
  
Athrun's face darkened in understanding. "I see," the two simple words said all Ariel needed to know. Before she could respond, Athrun was gone.  
  
Mornië practically ran through the halls. She was confused. Pushing, open the library doors, she found a pillowed niche in one of the walls and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. Now that she knew, she didn't want to know. She felt guilty for having asked. Something that personal should be shared by the person it concerned not someone else.  
  
"What have I done?" she whispered to the surrounding silence.  
  
"Mornië?" Athrun's voice carried through the library. "Look, I know Ariel told you, and I know you're in here."  
  
Mornië shrank back further into the shadows of her niche, not responding. She didn't want to face him now; couldn't face him now.  
  
"I should have told you myself," she could hear him moving around, "I just didn't want to... well... to be honest I didn't want to think about it." There was long pause. "I'm sorry you had to hear it from someone else." His last words were quiet.  
  
She felt her heart wrench within her chest. She shouldn't have asked to hear it. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it after a few seconds. There was nothing to say.  
  
Athrun slumped dejectedly and rested his hand on the doorknob. "I guess... I'll talk to you about it later then."  
  
Mornië let out a sigh of half relief, half sorrow, as the door shut with a nearly inaudible thump.  
  
Thalion cursed. He had warned Athrun weeks ago not to get involved. Now he had gone and kissed the woman.  
  
A small smirk crossed his face. He was almost glad Ariel had told Mornië about his sister. As painful as it was for him to remember, he hoped it would make the she-elf keep her distance from now on.  
  
Even if his loyalties did not lie in the same place, Thalion had no wish to cause Athrun more pain. But if he had no choice, he would. He had to do it right this time. No more blunders. He would wait until it was absolutely foolproof, and then he would get back at the bloody she-elf for all the trouble and pain she had caused him. No matter what his sympathy for Athrun was, he was going to make her pay.  
  
Athrun wandered aimlessly. Mornië's reaction had taken him by surprise. What kind of reaction he had expected, he didn't really know. He ran his hand over his face with a sigh. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He was mostly sorry that she had heard about it from someone other than him. That fact alone was enough to make him feel heavy with guilt.  
  
"Lord Athrun!" A young elf in a messengers livery ran up. "Lord Elrond would like to see you in the council room."  
  
"Is it really that urgent?" Athrun asked concerned.  
  
The messenger nodded. "He said it was very important."  
  
Athrun nodded and rose to go. He would have to remember to talk to Mornië later. The short walk to the council room gave him enough time to mask his emotions. It wouldn't do to let anyone know that he was having relationship problems.  
  
The council room was filled with generals and other leaders of Imladris's armed forces. "What's going on?"  
  
"Have a seat Lord Athrun; we've been awaiting you," Lord Elrond motioned to an empty chair. "Now that we are all here, I suppose you are wondering what this is all about?" He took his seat as well.  
  
"I have just received word from our northern scouts that there is a large contingent of orcs amassing there." Elrond looked very worried. "The scouts believe there may be an attack pending." Murmurs arose around the great table. Elrond cleared his throat, demanding attention again. "The reports, however dire, give me some hope. An attack so soon after the Fellowship's departure can only mean that Sauron is still unaware that the Ringbearer is no longer here."  
  
Several of the generals nodded in agreement. Athrun simply sat there listening, wondering what it all had to do with him  
  
Elrond waited for the discussion to die down again. "I have met with two of our best generals, and we have decided that we will be sending out a special force of scouts to the north to gather information on these rumours, and if necessary, to retrieve inside information as well."  
  
Athrun glanced over to where Thalion sat. Surely Lord Elrond would choose him to go. Athrun knew that he himself could not go because of his duties to Mornië. So why was he even here?  
  
As if he could read his thoughts, Elrond looked directly at Athrun. "I've decided to put you in charge, Athrun."  
  
Athrun didn't let his surprise show, but instead simply nodded. "My lord, what about the Moriquendi she-elf?"  
  
"Thalion," Elrond nodded to the elf, "Will take over her protective detail." Athrun nodded. There wasn't really anyone else he would even think about trusting with her care.  
  
Athrun wasn't really listening as Lord Elrond listed off the names of the other three elves to be on the scouting detail. He was too busy thinking about Mornië. How soon would he have to leave? As if sensing his question again, Elrond spoke. "You all have two hours to prepare to leave. I trust you will not need that long, but it gives you some leeway none the less." A few last instructions were given, and the meeting was dismissed.  
  
Athrun nodded to the other elves at the table before taking his leave. He was stopped by a hand on his arm. "Good luck, Athrun." Thalion followed him out the door.  
  
"Thank you." Athrun considered his next thought carefully. "Elrond made a good decision about you replacing me; I would have made the same decision." An odd look passed through Thalion's eyes but Athrun ignored it. "Don't let anything happen to her."  
  
Thalion didn't respond immediately. Finally he spoke, his voice oddly strained. "I won't. You of anyone should know that." He smiled at his friend.  
  
Athrun smiled before turning to walk toward the library. That was the last place he had seen Mornië; he hoped she was still there. A slight pang of disappointment hit him when he heard no sound in the large room. Entering, he glanced around at the empty chairs and tables set at intervals throughout the library.  
  
He was about to leave when the sound of a soft whimper caught his ear. "Wha..." he quietly followed the source of the sound. Much to his surprise, he found Mornië curled up in an alcove. There was a fearful expression on her sleeping face. He felt a slight pang when she whimpered again and shifted slightly. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, and unsure of how she would react if he woke her.  
  
She murmured something quietly, catching Athrun's attention. She was talking in her sleep? He bent down next to her, carefully slipping one arm under her neck and shoulders.  
  
"... powder... Amarth..." his ears barely caught the words.  
  
[i]"What is she talking about?"[/i] He felt her suddenly go rigid against him, crying out slightly. "Shh!" He wasn't sure if she could hear him. He ran his fingers along the curve of her brow, brushing back the tendrils of hair that fell in her face. He could feel her slowly relaxing again. His fingers traced the contour of her jaw gently, almost reverently.  
  
Mornië's eyelids fluttered slightly. Half-opening, the dark-brown depths focused. She smiled and opened her mouth as if to say something, but sleep overcame her again.  
  
Athrun slowly, gently, scooped her up in his arms, cradling her head to his chest. She still felt so thin and fragile. She never acted like it though. He felt a sudden un-quelled urge to protect her well up inside of him and loathed the thought of leaving her in Rivendell. He had no choice, thought, except to serve his people through his duties to Lord Elrond, first and foremost. Still, he would more than willingly lay down his life if it meant protecting the fragile flower he held in his arms.  
  
[i]"At least I know Thalion will protect her. I can hold him to that."[/i] The thought helped put his mind to rest.  
  
Mornië rolled over in her bed and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to recognize the familiar surroundings of her room. She sat up, confused. She didn't remember falling asleep in her bed; the last place she remembered was the library. A stab of guilt ran through her. Athrun must have come back and carried her. She had thought she was dreaming but obviously not.  
  
The crinkle of paper made her look down at her hand. Folded delicately and resting lightly in her hand was a red, paper flower. She picked it up and looked at it for several minutes, smiling. [i]"I need to talk to him,"[/i] she thought, pushing the blanket away and slipping out of the bed.  
  
She swung her feet to the floor, feeling for the shoes she knew were there, and then reached for the burning candle. Her hand brushed against the stand, and wandered down the two objects that had captured her gaze. Picking them up, she turned them over in her hands. [i]"These are... Athrun's knives!"[/i] She looked back down at a scrap of parchment that had been placed beneath the two sheathed blades.  
  
Carefully unfolding the paper, Mornië read slowly Athrun's clear, steady handwriting. It consisted of a few short lines. [i]Mornië, I have been sent to scout in the northern regions. Thalion has been asked to fill my place for the time being. The daggers are for your protection; keep them close until I return. Love, Athrun[/i]  
  
Mornië folded set the paper back down slowly. Maybe he hadn't left yet! She tucked the daggers inside the bodice of her dress and ran from the room as quickly as her skirts would allow her. He couldn't be gone yet!  
  
"Mornië!" A large, black shape moved toward her from the left. She whirled brandishing one of the daggers, already thanking Athrun for leaving them with her.  
  
"Easy!" Thalion raised his hands in mock surrender, "It's just me."  
  
"Thalion!" Mornië, for once, didn't care that it was him. "Has Athrun already left?! Please tell me he's still here!"  
  
Thalion frowned. "I'm afraid he left nearly two hours ago."  
  
She felt as if everything had drained from her. Athrun had done everything that he had been commanded and more, and, the one time he asked for understanding, she had remained silent. "Thank you," she said almost inaudibly, moving past Thalion in the direction of her room.  
  
"Wait." Thalion stepped back in front of her.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, not caring in the least.  
  
"Athrun asked me to show you something when you woke up." Thalion had a pleading look on his face. "If you feel up to it now, I'll take you there."  
  
Mornië considered for a moment. Perhaps she [i]could[/i] trust Thalion...  
  
"Okay," she surrendered, turning to follow him.  
  
His face lit up in a huge grin. "This way." Thalion laughed inside. He had never imagined it would be so easy. He mentally thanked Lord Elrond for sending Athrun away. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity if he had planned it this way himself. Of course, a good word put into Lord Elrond's ear earlier in the day, after the scouts reports had arrived, had helped in the Elf-lord's decision.  
  
The two walked in silence for several minutes, the only sound the occasional trickle of water reaching them from the water fall and the sound of their own footfalls, which were nearly silent. Mornië didn't recognize the halls and passages that Thalion was taking; Athrun had never taken her into this part of the city before.  
  
"Where are we going?" He voices sounded small against the cold stone.  
  
"Athrun made me promise to keep it a secret until we arrived." Thalion shrugged and kept moving. Pools of moonlight lit their path. The night sky was filled with stars as if someone had taken silver dust and flung it over a black blanket.  
  
Mornië followed Thalion in growing discomfort. She didn't like the feeling of being alone with him. "Are we almost there?"  
  
"Almost." Thalion's voice was even. "Here it is," Thalion finally stopped in front of a dark, vine covered, doorway.  
  
"In there?" Mornië asked uncertainly, peering into the darkness.  
  
"Mhm." He nodded. "Go ahead!" He grinned from ear to ear. Mornië still wasn't certain. She took a tentative step forward into the gloom. Warning flags went up in her mind. Too late. White stars danced before her eyes as her mind exploded into pain. And then she knew nothing.  
  
Athrun guided Huisuume over the rough rocks that littered most of the path toward the northern border of the valley. During the entire trip, he had been distracted and edgy. Something his men were not used to from him.  
  
His thoughts were consumed with Mornië. Shaking his head, he chided himself mentally. He was acting like a love-sick little boy pining after his first crush.  
  
He could tell that he would have to leave Huisuume pretty soon. The trees were growing too close together, and the terrain more treacherous. The last thing he wanted was to end up with a horse with a broken leg. The four scouts had split up not more than thirty minutes ago, each taking a different path through the mountain side.  
  
A low rumble of thunder did nothing to improve his mood. Rain would wash away any of the tracks left by the orcs. The only benefit it would provide was a scent mask. The first splattering drops pattered on the leafy coverage before dripping down to the ground. Athrun huddled under a cloak he had brought just in case. The coming spring had forced him to be aware of the weather.  
  
Before long he was forced to dismount Huisuume, leaving the horse to find his own way back. Athrun couldn't afford to have any accidents with him or his horse. The combination of the terrain and the rain weren't the best for a horse. He pulled his cloak closer, moving onwards through the trees.  
  
He had met the scouts who had warned Lord Elrond the day before. Not only were their reports accurate, the situation had worsened in the time it had taken them to arrive. Several hundred orcs, bloodthirsty and impatient, had amassed a few miles away from the border. Athrun had immediately sent word back to Lord Elrond to send a large force up the mountain. Now he and his small detail were simply combing the mountain side, looking for anything that could prove to be promising in the way of information.  
  
The sound of voices drifted through the trees and the smell of a recently doused camp fire brought Athrun's attention back to the task at hand. He knew whoever was up ahead was not one of his scouts, and there was no other reason for a fire to have been lit in this area. His suspicious grew by the minute. Creeping closer, he listened.  
  
"What I wouldn't give to be out of this bloody rain!" a irritated voice snarled.  
  
"We won't have to be here much longer. As soon as the girl is dead, and the attack is over we can leave." A calmer, more cool-headed voice answered.  
  
Athrun crept closer, blending himself into the bows of a tree and positioning himself so that he could see the sources of the voices. [i]"Moriquendi!"[/i] The fact that he recognized them as such surprised him, and he found his thoughts flying back to Mornië's again. Could this have been where she came from? Who was this girl they were trying to kill?  
  
"Very clever of her you know; faking amnesia. It's the perfect cover for someone who wants protection and also doesn't want to get caught." Athrun stiffened. They couldn't be talking about... no.  
  
"Yeah, but you'd think the elves of Imladris would be a little smarter than to fall for a trick like that?" a voice Athrun hadn't heard before spoke.  
  
"You have much to learn," Athrun matched the calm and collected voice to the confident, cruel-faced elf reclining in the midst of the company.  
  
"Dûriel, or as she calls herself, 'Mornië', is a very clever and skilful actor. She fooled even me once."  
  
[i]"No!"[/i] Athrun couldn't think straight. What was happening here?!  
  
The third voice, belonging to a younger elf with a scar across his face broke in again. "From what I hear, she has some elf down there wrapped around her little finger."  
  
Athrun felt as though someone had stabbed a knife through his chest and twisted it. [i]"No! It's can't be true! It isn't possible..."[/i] He tried to keep his breathing steady so he would not be heard.  
  
The irritated voice, now personified by a she-elf who looked like she could boil water with one glance, returned. "Amarth, you shouldn't have alienated her. She was our best fighter, and you know it."  
  
[i]"Amarth..."[/i] The name echoed through Athrun's mind. That was the name that Mornië had murmured in her sleep... So she had remembered. She had lied. It had all be a lie. Athrun gritted his teeth in pain and rage.  
  
It took all of the control he had left to move quietly away from the makeshift camp the enemy had erected. When he was out of hearing range, he ran for his horse. Huisuume would wait for a few hours before wandering off. That much of the horses training had stuck. He found the animal in a nearby clearing, nose deep in the grass. Launching himself onto Huisuume's back, he retraced his footsteps as quickly as was safely possible  
  
He needed to get back to Imladris. He had let the Moriquendi she-elf make a fool of him; she had used him, pretended to need him. He had even kissed her. Athrun blocked away the thought. Mornië... no... 'Dûriel' was a spy and an imposter. It was his duty to bring her to justice. He couldn't let personal feelings get in the way. 


	8. Betrayal

Thalion slung Mornië's limp form over the horse he had waiting nearby. She had played directly into his hands. All he had to do now was deliver her head to Amarth, and he would be finished. But still... He studied her unconscious body while fingering the knives he had taken off of her. It would still be so much more satisfying to personally make her pay for all the trouble she put him through. Amarth wouldn't care either way. Thalion mounted his own horse, while leading the other, and set off down a narrow hidden path up the side of the mountain.  
  
If he timed things correctly, he would be back in Imladris before Athrun even began the return journey. His simple story of how Mornië had disappeared in the middle of the night would hardly be seen as unbelievable after everything that had been happening around Rivendell in the past few weeks.  
  
Mornië fought her way to the surface of sleep. Her head pounded worse that it had when she had first awaken in Imladris. Unlike then, she remembered everything that had happened since her accident in the river.  
  
"Where am I?" she muttered aloud, not trying to sit up.  
  
"Take a wild guess." She stiffened at the sound of Thalion's voice.  
  
Not deigning to respond, she assessed her physical condition. Her hands and feet were tied. This realization didn't come as much of a shock as it should have. Turning her head carefully, Mornië glared at Thalion. "I don't know how you hid your treachery from Athrun for this long." She felt an odd sort of anger well up inside her. It felt familiar, like something from a past life.  
  
Thalion snorted. "Airin was my sister, and Athrun and I grew up together. It wasn't very hard."  
  
"You use the memory of your sister to justify what you're doing?" The she- elf fumed.  
  
"Who said that?" Thalion defended himself. "All I said was that it wasn't very hard to deceive the elves of Imladris." He leaned forward so that he could see straight into her eyes. "To tell you the truth, I don't want to cause Athrun any more pain than he has already suffered. But you..." He studied the blade in his hand, "But you I would very much like to see suffer, a great deal of pain." His last words practically turned into a snarl.  
  
Mornië had never seen such hate in anyone's eyes. "Amarth won't mind if you come back to him a little worse for wear."  
  
"Who's Amarth? What does he have to do with me?"  
  
Thalion gave her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her. "You know very well who he is. Cut the amnesia act. It doesn't work on me."  
  
Mornië practically growled in frustration. "I don't understand anyone around here! I know nothing about this Amarth, nothing about the Moriquendi, and nothing about some fake amnesia act! Why do you people want me dead so badly?!"  
  
"You pose a threat. A very dangerous threat to some." Thalion began sharpening the blade on his dagger to a deadly edge. "To Athrun you were simply a pleasant distraction."  
  
Mornië fought the urge to spit in Thalion's face. Lapsing into angry silence, the she-elf tried to focus on how she was going to escape. Her mind, however, insisted on going back to what Thalion had said. She couldn't believe she was just a distraction to Athrun. But then... he hadn't even willingly shared his past with her. He only talked about it to her because Ariel told her first. Mornië fought back the pain and fear that threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
She had to stay calm. She had to escape. "Athrun will come for me," she murmured.  
  
"My dear," Thalion's voice sent a sliver of fear through her, "Athrun will think you have betrayed him. And even if he did come, you will be long dead before he gets here." The razor age of the blade glinted in the moonlight.  
  
Thalion kicked Mornië once more for good measure. All the frustration and anger he had harboured against her was finally being let out. Once he was sure she was unconscious, he threw her roughly over the back of the horse and began leading it farther up the mountain. He knew it was unwise to stay in one place for very long, and he had kept her at the first site for a day or so. There was a cave a few miles away that would suit his purposes perfectly.  
  
Amarth was more than welcome to what was left of her once he was done. Thalion led the horse up the slope of the mountain at a steady pace, walking on foot himself as it was easier to be sure no one was around. Horses were disgusting noisy creatures in his opinion, but they were still necessary from time to time.  
  
Thalion mumbled to himself as he walked. He could've left the horse below if Mornië had been conscious. She could've walked on her own. She was already causing him trouble again. Thankfully, the walk wasn't to far. Still mumbling ill-temperedly, Thalion tossed Mornië's limp form to the hard, rocky floor of the cave, going back out to hobble and tether the horse.  
  
Mornië stifled a groan of pain. She was going to make Thalion pay for all he had done to her. She had been conscious for half of the trip up the mountain. The fool had been stupid enough to leave her hands and feet untied.  
  
Moving silently, she picked up a pointed rock that fit comfortably in her clenched fist. Thalion was still occupied with the horse when she crept up behind him. She purposely scuffed one foot against the ground, making him turn around to see what had made the noise. She swung her clenched first still holding the rock into the side of his head. Not checking to see whether or not she had killed him, she dropped the bloody rock and wiped her hand off on his tunic.  
  
Athrun dismounted Huisuume almost before the animal even stopped completely. "Quesse!" Athrun handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy and dashed up the carved marble steps. "Quesse, where is Lord Thalion and Mornië?"  
  
Quesse shrugged. "You're asking the same question everyone else is." She regarded him coolly. "No one has seen either of them for about a day and a half."  
  
Athrun cursed, to Quesse's surprise. "Is something the matter Lord Athrun?"  
  
"Yes... well... no. No, nothing is the matter." He moved past the startled elf, his long strides carrying him through the halls quickly. He didn't want Lord Elrond to know about his discovery just yet. True, he could get into serious trouble for withholding information, but it couldn't be seen as withholding information if Elrond didn't even know he was there yet.  
  
He barged into the store room, glad to find it was empty. He would need weapons and fresh supplies. He would go after them. He only prayed to the Valar that Thalion was alright. If he wasn't he would never forgive himself. He had let his personal feelings get in the way of his judgement.  
  
Thalion slowly put a hand to his head when he woke. He was lieing on the ground with one of his horses standing over him. He pulled his hand away and found his fingertips covered in blood. "Bloody Moriquendi!" he hissed as he struggled to rise to his feet. He wasn't exactly sure what Mornië had done to him. Unsteady on his feet, he leaned against the horses shoulder for support. The forest around him danced and spun before his eyes.  
  
[i]"She must not escape!"[/i] Thalion attempted to get his thoughts into some semblance of order. If Dûriel got away, it was likely that both Amarth [i]and[/i] the elves of Rivendell would have his head.  
  
Mornië followed the path back down the mountain as quickly as she could. Thalion had done his work well. Every step was painful. Her only hope was that she had hit him hard enough to keep him out for several hours. Every silent footfall was painful. The rocks cut her bare feet adding to her extreme discomfort. What seemed like days later, she saw thought she saw the door Thalion had led her to before he had knocked her out.  
  
If it was, she would be able to find her way back. She would be able to get help. She ducked through the door. Yes, she knew where she was now. Thalion had not been able to lose her through all the turns he had taken before. She stumbled down the hall, tripping on the remnants of what had been her dress. It hung in muddy tatters, stained with dirt and blood; most of it her own.  
  
Footsteps sounded down the long marble hall, echoing and carrying down the stone expanse. Her first instinct was to call out, but a sixth sense in the back of her mind prompted her to duck into an empty room out of sight, waiting for the footsteps to pass. Hazarding a glance into the hall, Mornië cautiously stuck her head out. "Ariel," she gasped in relief and pain.  
  
"Mornië?" Ariel began walking toward her but Mornië disappeared. "No, don't come in here. Go back to your room, I'll meet you there."  
  
The other she-elf nodded, not really understanding. There was something in Mornië's voice, though. Something that said there all was not right. Mornië waited for Ariel's footsteps to fade away. A few minutes later, she stepped out into the moon-lit hallway. She made sure her feet did not leave a blood trail by wrapping them in scraps torn from the bottom of her dress before following her friend.  
  
"Whatever has happened child?!" Ariel pulled her into the room and shut the door.  
  
"Water, Ariel, water." Mornië's throat was dry, and the taste of blood lingered in her mouth.  
  
Ariel pushed the younger she-elf gently into a chair and filled a glass with water from a pitcher she always had sitting on her bedside table. The candle-light cast it's golden glow over Mornië's bruised face as she leaned her head back against the chair's headrest.  
  
"Ariel, you must not tell anyone that I am here," she managed at last.  
  
"Why child? Tell me what has happened!"  
  
Mornië shook her head. "I can't tell you, not yet anyway." She ran a hand through her grimy hair. "Just don't tell anyone I"m here. That's all I ask."  
  
"Mornië, if you're in some kind of trouble, I must know," Ariel was concerned, "No one has heard or seen you or Thalion for over a day!"  
  
Mornië paled slightly at the mention of Thalion's name. "He's not here is he?" She stiffened and stood. Limping to the door, she locked it.  
  
"What has he done? Did he do this to you?"  
  
Mornië leaned heavily against the closed door. Her body felt ready to give in. "Anything I tell you could put you in danger, Ariel. Please, it is for your own sake i don't tell you. I just ask that you trust me... just trust me..." Mornië slumped slowly to the floor, slipping in and out of awareness.  
  
"Oh Valar, child!" Ariel managed to push and pull the she-elf to the bed before she totally lost conciousness again. She would do what she could for her. She only hoped that Mornië knew what she was doing.  
  
Athrun road Huisuume back and forth through the mountains that surrounded the valley of Imladris. His search for Thalion had proved fruitless so far. He worried that he might be too late. The path, if it could be called that, led him high into the range. How close he was to the southern border, he wasn't sure.  
  
Athrun continued on his chosen track for several more hours, before coming upon anything. The sound of faint hoof beats reached his ears, carried on the wind. Turning in their direction, he readied his sword. He wasn't sure what to expect, but what he found made his heart sink.  
  
"Thalion!" he dismounted, running to his friend's mount. Thalion lay slumped over in the saddle, his bloodied hands clinging to the horse's tangled main. "Thalion!" he caught the reins and stopped the horse, disentangling his friend from the saddle. Thalion looked like he was barely conscious. Small cuts covered his hands, and he was bleeding from a head wound. Athrun managed to lower Thalion to the ground. "Can you hear me?"  
  
Had Mornië... no... Dûriel done this? "Thalion, answer me!" he felt for his pulse, finding it much to his relief.  
  
"Who Thalion?!" Rage seethed in Athrun's veins at the person who had done this. They would surely pay.  
  
Thalion finally spoke, his voice weak. "Mornië... it was.... it was Mornië." Thalion closed his eyes again. "Be... be careful of her Athrun... I think she... that she plans to... plans to kill you.." Thalion's voice trailed off as he fell back into unconsciousness. Athrun's blood ran cold.  
  
As gently as he could, Athrun lifted Thalion back up onto his horse. With some rope he found tied to the horses saddle, he made sure his friend wouldn't be falling out of the saddle. Mounting Huisuume, he fumed all the way back down the mountain.  
  
[i]"I'll kill her for this,[/i] he could never remember feeling so angry. Not even after Airin had died. [i]"She fooled me."[/i] the realization was still sinking in. The thread of hope he had been holding onto was now severed completely. "Never again," he muttered to himself. "No one will ever get that close again."  
  
Thalion, faking his unconsciousness, smiled as he listened. Everything he had worked for was coming about. All he had to do now was wait for Mornië to show her face. He wouldn't have to worry about killing her. Athrun would do it for him.  
  
Ariel gently bathed the dirt and blood away from the cuts and gashes on Mornië's head and face. It was a shame; some of them were bound to leave scars. But what she was more worried about was how she had received them. There was still no sign of Thalion, and rumour had reached her that Athrun was back in the city, but had then run off again. The studied the unconscious she-elf in the bed.  
  
She had said not to tell anyone, but surely she didn't mean Athrun as well. After all, he was her sworn protector. [i]"No,"[/i] she reminded herself, [i]"She said not to tell anyone. That means not even Athrun."[/i]  
  
Ariel continued sponging the blood away. The once pail skin of the she-elf was now spotted with purple and blue splotches. How Mornië had sustained such a beating, she would never know. "Just through the night and morning. It's early afternoon now."  
  
Mornië moaned. "I feel like I got tossed off a cliff and trampled by a herd of stampeding horses."  
  
"You look like it too," Ariel added dryly. She didn't bother asking her again what had happened. "If you think you can stand to move, there's a bath waiting for you in the next room. It should still be warm now."  
  
"No one knows I'm here right?"  
  
"I haven't told a soul," Ariel helped Mornië sit up and slowly, painfully make her way the short distance to the tub.  
  
The water was pleasantly warm. "I should be dead, shouldn't I?" Mornië carefully washed the dirt and blood from her body.  
  
"All I can say is you've certainly surprised me with your resilience my dear." Ariel could now see the full extent of her wounds, and it shocked her that the she-elf could even begin to move. Her entire body seemed to be black and blue with bruises and welts, and several wounds were swollen and red. She shook her head in wonderment. "You never cease to amaze me child."  
  
"It brought something back," Mornië said after a moment. "A small insignificant thing."  
  
Ariel looked at her strangely. "What is that?"  
  
"One small memory that doesn't do me any good. I'm sitting in a woman's lap, and she's rubbing some kind of ointment on my arm. I think it's my mother," a far away look entered Mornië's eyes. "She called me a 'concrete angel'."  
  
Ariel didn't know what to make of it. "Well," she said at last, "At least you're remembering something."  
  
Mornië didn't say anything, but instead extracted a small crumpled piece of paper from the remnants of her dress that lay on the floor.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Mornië stared at it sadly. "A lost dream," she murmured, setting it back down so that Ariel could see it; a paper flower.  
  
"Oh." Ariel could think of nothing else to say. Turning away, she grabbed a blanket and held it out to the she-elf. "I'll go find some clothes for you."  
  
Mornië carefully climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in the blanket. Limping across the floor, half leaning against the wall, she sank weakly into a chair. She needed to know the truth. The truth about everything; about herself, her past, about Athrun and Airin, and about this Amarth character. She was tired of playing a game she knew nothing about. It was like trying to find one's way out of a labyrinth blindfolded and with her hands tied; impossible.  
  
Ariel returned a few minutes later with an armful of black and grey cloth. "I... um... brought pants. I thought it would help hide everything better than a dress would."  
  
Mornië nodded her thanks and accepted the clothes, wincing as she did. Ariel left the room so that she could get dressed by herself. On top of the pile was a black veil. Brushing it aside, she put on the rest of the clothing before looking at it again. She hadn't had the chance to see herself in a mirror, and she didn't want to. The veil, as much as she despised having to wear it, would be useful for when she confronted Athrun.  
  
It surprised her that she already planned on confronting him. What Thalion had said, about her being just a pleasant distraction to Athrun, had cut her to the core. Was any of what he had said true? He had said that Athrun would think she had betrayed him. How could he know all this for certain?  
  
Ariel knocked softly before re-entering. "You don't have to stay," Mornië stared at the floor as she spoke.  
  
Ariel put a hand to her mouth. "Nothing will ever be the same, will it?" she asked finally. "What has he done to you?" The last question came out unexpectedly. She regretted having voiced it again.  
  
The heavy rain clouds that had hung ominously in the sky during the day finally gave way with the coming of night. Thunder and lighting lit up the dark rain soaked night occasionally, giving anyone around a quick glimpse of the world around them, illuminated for a split second of blinding white light. The dampness seemed to have latched onto everyone's souls as well; especially Lord Athrun. He stood in the dark shelter of an empty pavilion in a side courtyard, his troubled steel blue eyes probing the night, searching for answers...  
  
He had gotten Thalion back to the city late that afternoon, and he had immediately been rushed away by the healers. The rage and stinging sense of betrayal he felt towards Dûriel had only continued to grow inside of him, festering like a wound that refused to close or heal.  
  
"Athrun."  
  
He whirled. A flash of lighting illuminated the world for a single heart beat. A veil covered her face, but he knew it was her. The rage that had boiled inside him bubbled to the surface. Snarling, he took a step toward her.  
  
"Athrun please!" Mornië flinched and stepped away from him. Her reaction caused him to stop for a moment. Her being afraid of anything wasn't something he would ever have expected. "Please let me explain! I don't know what he told you..."  
  
Athrun didn't hear any more. [i]"Don't listen to her! She'll tell you naught but lies!"[/i] He cut her off. "Enough! Enough lies; Mornië! Or is it Dûriel?!!" He spat the last words bitterly, as if the very sound of them was poison.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, or who 'Dûriel' is!" Mornië cried in confusion.  
  
"No more lies!!" Athrun cursed and lashed out at her in rage, the back of his hand catching her across the face, causing her to stumble and fall. Lightning illuminated the empty courtyard again, sparks seeming to catch and light up his icy cold eyes. Her silence further infuriated him. How long would she keep up this act?!? "The game is over Dûriel! I know all about you!" She still didn't move. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her up in a sharp motion, causing her to cry out in pain.  
  
"Don't! Please don't!" she tried to twist away when he reached for the veil.  
  
Ignoring her, he ripped the thin material away. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky. Athrun froze. Her tear-streaked face was bruised. Not just the one from where he had hit her, but many.  
  
[i]'She fooled even me once before,'[/i] Amarth's words echoed in his head. [i]"It's another one of her tricks,"[/i] His anger pushed him beyond reasoning.  
  
He grabbed her jaw with his left hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Why?! Why did you do it?!" his eyes pierced through her unmercifully. "I already have my suspicions, but i want to hear it from you!"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about! I don't know what anyone is talking about!" Mornië insisted, fiercely fighting back tears of pain. She saw her fate in his eyes. A murderous hate burned deep in the blue depths. Steeling herself slightly, she met his gaze. "If you really believe what you've just said, end it now. I don't want to live if I'm really that evil."  
  
Lightning flashed again, followed by the low rumble of thunder. Athrun didn't move for several moments. Mornië met his gaze and held it. She could see the conflict going on in his mind. Finally, with a snarl, he shoved her away from him roughly with a strangled curse. Mornië's body screamed in protest to the rough treatment, but she didn't try to move. Athrun paced away from her, his shoulders tense, his fist clenching and unclenching.  
  
"Get out of here." The cold words stung, but she knew he was giving her a final chance.  
  
Staring out into the rain, Athrun saw without seeing. Blind rage at his inability to do as he had sworn he would coursed through him. Time passed slowly. Hearing no sound behind him, he turned. There was no sign of her. Athrun didn't know if he should feel relieved or not. A slight movement on the floor caught his eye.  
  
A cool breeze had blow through the pavilion, catching a loose edge of the veil he had ripped away from Mornië. His breath caught in his throat. Resting on top was a pair of daggers and a paper flower. 


	9. Shadows

The steady "drip drip drip" of the left over rain from the night before served as a reminder of the furious storm that had passed through, as did the damage it left behind. Mornië stared out he window. The bleak landscape matching her mood. Of all the injuries she sustained, the one that pained her the most was Athrun's single strike. Not only had it hurt physically, it had crushed her emotionally.  
  
She felt hopelessly confused; thoughts and questions turned over and over in her mind, none of which did she have answers to. Mornië rubbed her jaw where Athrun's fingers had left their marks, as if trying to erase the memory of what had happened last night. He hated her. She had seen it in his eyes; the unchecked murderous rage. At what, she still couldn't figure. The pieces of the puzzle that had been her life just wouldn't fit.  
  
"Have you seen her?" Thalion leaned carelessly against a wall in the stables. The healers were amazed at his quick recovery. It had only taken a few days for him to get out of bed and begin walking around.  
  
Athrun's jaw tightened. "No."  
  
Thalion nodded but knew his friend was lieing. Not only did his reaction to the subject of Mornië give him away, he was carrying the very same daggers that Mornië had reclaimed when she had escaped from him.  
  
"I still can't help but feel this is all my fault," Athrun muttered apologetically as he ran the curry comb through Huisuume's coat again.  
  
"Stop beating yourself up over it Athrun. I'm fine now!"  
  
Athrun didn't even glance at his friend, but stared stonily out towards the courtyard. "I should have killed her when I had the chance."  
  
"I thought you said you hadn't seen her?" Thalion commented dryly.  
  
Athrun didn't reply, but his jaw jumped at he clenched it in pent up anger and frustration.  
  
Thalion read his silence as affirmation. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing," Athrun brushed Huisuume's coat with a vengeance. The horse, unaware of the turmoil going on around him, leaned into the brush. "I saw her the night I brought you back." He finally broke the silence.  
  
Thalion looked at him with surprise. This was news to him. "What happened?"  
  
"She tried to feed me more lies. I hit her, turned away for a few seconds, and she was gone." Athrun dropped his grooming supplies in a nearby bucket and stalked out of the stall.  
  
Thalion had gotten used to Athrun's short clipped manner of speaking over the past week or so since Mornië had disappeared. In a way he was back to his old self. Thalion cursed silently. He had hoped Athrun would do his job for him. Had been almost certain the elf's rage would overcome the brief emotional connection he had experienced.  
  
[i]"Obviously he's weaker than you thought,"[/i] the little voice in his head taunted. [i]"The witch[/i] still [i]has him wrapped around her finger."[/i]  
  
"So what are you going to do about it?" Thalion asked casually.  
  
Athrun gave him a look that would have had anyone else quaking in their shoes, but Thalion was undaunted. He knew his friend too well. Athrun looked away. "I'll kill her."  
  
"What?" Thalion wasn't sure if he had heard him right. "If I meet her again, I said I'll kill her."  
  
Mornië listened from a dark corner in a stall across the walkway and a few doors down from Huisuume's. It was an empty on so no one would have reason to come in. She had followed Athrun around the city for about two weeks, and the elf she had gotten to know was gone. The stranger that now inhabited his body frightened her. Even when she had first met him, he hadn't been this cold, this heartless.  
  
She adjusted her hood and veil a little. She was glad that both were more common in Rivendell during these darkening days, as it gave her a cover for when she moved around within the city. However, she spent most of her time outside of the city, partially for fear of being caught if she stayed too long. She had discovered an entire network of empty and abandoned tunnels leading from the city to the mountains and had since learned them all like the back of her hand.  
  
It amazed her at times that neither of the men who's footsteps she haunted never noticed her. At times she felt like a hunter, except it wasn't her intention to kill. She was merely trying to find out what had happened. What lies Thalion had fed to Athrun.  
  
She didn't remember being taught to walk silently. Didn't remember learning to blend with shadows. It came naturally, or so it seemed. There were many things that she never remembered learning, but came to her easily. It was like something from a dream.  
  
Mornië crouched beneath the ledge of the stall silently, gathering her cloak closer to her body as she listened to the stable boy passing by oblivious to her presence. In a single fluid motion, she pulled herself up over the edge of the stall, and swung silently up into the rafters above the stable boy, slipping out of a window at the end of the eves. The boy never heard a thing.  
  
She stopped directly over their heads, hidden in the shadows of the roofs support beams. Kneeling on one knee, she listened. [i]"If I meet her again, I said I'll kill her."[/i]  
  
Mornië's face remained stony. She had ceased to feel anything. Not even the pain the last of her injuries gave her. Ariel believed her heart had become a block of ice. But under the veneer, Mornië knew that no matter what he thought she had done, she couldn't change her feelings for him. She could live without him, but she wouldn't want to.  
  
Elrond stood, troubled, under the stone arch of the window, watching the two elven warriors as they walked.  
  
[i] "I amar prestar aen... han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae a han noston ned 'wilith."[/i] Galadriel's voice entered his mind. [i]The power of the enemy is growing. Sauron will use his puppet Saruman to destroy the people of Rohan. Isengard has been unleashed. The eye of Sauron now turns to Gondor, the last free kingdom of men. His war on this country will come swiftly. He senses the Ring is close. The strength of the Ringbearer is failing. In his heart, Frodo begins to understand. The quest will claim his life. You know this. You have foreseen it. It is the risk we a! ll took.[/i]  
  
Elrond stepped away from the window, crossing the distance across the room slowly.  
  
Galadriel continued. [i]In the gathering dark, the will of the Ring grows strong. It works hard now to find its way back into the hands of men. Men, who are so easily seduced by its power. The young captain of Gondor has but to extend his hands, take the Ring for his own and the world will fall. It is close now, so close to achieving its goal. For Sauron will have dominion of all life on this Earth, even unto the ending of the world. The time of the Elves is over. Do we leave Middle-earth to its fate? Do we let them stand alone?"[/i]  
  
Elrond gazed up at the painting of Isildur, facing the impossible enemy Sauron. No, they would not stand alone.  
  
Amarth scanned the scanned the crowd of elves. Once again, Thalion had failed to kill Dûriel, so he was taking matters in to his own hands. The small group of she-elves in the company had long since lost his interest. His target was not among them. He was looking for someone in disguise.  
  
It was only natural that Dûriel would try to follow with the elvish company; it was an opportunity for her to escape from his watchful eye unnoticed. He knew she would never travel openly with them, especially since the incident Thalion had informed him of; no, she was too smart for that. She would be in disguise. The trick was seeing through her disguise.  
  
The armour he wore allowed him to blend in with the rest of the warriors. He felt no regret for the young elf now lying dead in the woods. Amarth had made no effort to hide the body, but they would be long gone before anyone found it.  
  
He scanned the faces of the soldiers, searching for one that looked familiar. He assumed she would be near Athrun, the elf that she seemed to be so enamoured with. Much to his surprise, she wasn't there.  
  
Mornië surveyed the hectic yet organized activity going on around her. With much wheedling and cajoling, she had managed to convince Ariel to procure the proper arms and armour that would allow her to travel in disguise with the elven forces travelling to Helm's Deep. She had even had her hair cut to a more masculine length.  
  
Today, the morning of their departure, was the first time she had mingled with so many of the people of Imladris at one time. Women said their last tearful goodbyes to husbands, fathers, brothers, and lovers. She hung back, blending into the mix of elves. She had no one to bid farewell. She observed the mannerisms of the male elves around her, being sure to remember them so that she could call upon them in the future during this charade.  
  
A command was given and the elves fell into formation; Mornië found a place near the back. They were travelling light. All she had with her was her bow, quiver full of arrows, and a very small pack containing dried fruit and an odd type of bread.  
  
She wasn't accustom to marching in a formation, or to any of the manoeuvres that the elven soldiers were trained in, but any mistakes she made, she quickly covered up. She would learn quickly. It didn't take her long to locate Athrun near the front of the column, accompanied by Thalion.  
  
Mornië shook the rain out of her soaked cloak. It had rained for weeks. Only stopping once the company had reached chlorinated, but two days out from the elven city, the clouds had returned. Not that she minded the rain; it gave her an excuse to keep her hood up.  
  
Though she was sufficiently disguised that none of the other elves would recognize her, she was still wary of Athrun and Thalion. Most of the time she just tried to avoid them; not an easy task when you march and camp in the same unit.  
  
She had had a close brush with being discovered when one of the Lorien elves had, in the spirit of most warriors, challenged her to a contest. She had been able to dissuade the elf from having a knife fight. Instead, she had bested him with the bow.  
  
Afterwards, the other elves seemingly respected her unspoken desire for solitude. She listened to their conversation in the evening; refusing to join in even when baited. Soon, she became undistinguishable from the others. She had learned to march in formation and all the other manoeuvres required in a matter of days. Now, she simply bided her time, waiting for them to reach their destination and the battle they were to fight.  
  
Mornië found it amusing to listen to the male elves speak about matters "at home", and, even, a few offering advice about women. She took advantage of the many mannerisms she had picked up on, using them whenever she got the chance. Not only did it help her blend with the others, but it amused her at the same time. Men were odd creatures, she decided.  
  
The walls of Helm's Deep rose from the mountainside slowly as the elves marched over the ridge opposite the Rohirrim fortress. Archers lines the Deeping wall, their bows trained on the advancing company. Someone raised a horn and blew one clear, triumphant note that resounded off the walls.  
  
A shout arose inside the wall, and a few moments later the massive gate swung open on heavy hinges. Mornië couldn't help but be amused by the looks and stares of awe and wonder that the elven army received as they marched with precision and unity into the stronghold, but she masked it behind a solid stony expression.  
  
They followed the odd circling causeway up to the main courtyard. They were met by an astonished King Theo den. "How is this possible?" The question was underlain with hope.  
  
Haldir, the elf from Lorien who had take command of the army upon their departure from the elven city of the Galadhrim, smiled. " I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together." He was interrupted by Lord Aragorn and Prince Legolas practically running down the stairs. "We come to honour that allegiance."  
  
[i]"Lord Aragorn?! What is he doing here?"[/i] Mornië was mystified. [i]"I thought he had gone with the Hobbits."[/i]  
  
"Mae govannen, Haldir." Aragorn hugged the elven lord. Haldir, shocked, returned the embrace lightly. "You are most welcome." Prince Legolas clasped arms with him, a more dignified greeting in Mornië's eyes.  
  
Haldir returned his gaze to King Theoden. "We are proud to fight alongside men, once more."  
  
Mornië gazed out into the night across the battlements, into what should have been an absolutely dark world. Instead it was lit by thousands upon thousands of torches, all carried by the advancing Uruk-hai army. The army was massive, stretching out and covering the ground like ants. The light from the torches was so great that it was even reflected by the armour of the elves, and in the eyes of all.  
  
Mornië felt a strange tingling of something akin to fear tickle down her spine. It occurred to her, as it did to many, that death hung over them, and would take many of them before the sun rose again. Her thoughts were interrupted by a grumbling from somewhere below her.  
  
"You could have picked a better spot." Mornië realized that it was a dwarf, straining to see over the battlement. She quickly recognized him as Gimli, one of the Fellowship. Beside him stood Prince Legolas, smirking amusedly despite the situation.  
  
Lord Aragorn approached the two, coming to stand beside them as they surveyed the swarming army below. "Well lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night." Gimli spoke jestingly.  
  
"Your friends are with you, Aragorn," Legolas said assuringly.  
  
"Let's hope they last the night," Gimli's voice was less than hopeful.  
  
Aragorn turned from the depressing sight on the field and began walking among the elven archers lined on the wall"A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!" (Show them no mercy! For you shall receive none!)  
  
A loud crack of thunder ripped through the air. A few seconds later, the first cold, sputtering drops of rain bounced off helms and walls. The downpour that ensued did nothing to lift the heavy weight of impending doom. An Uruk climbed to the top of a small outcropping in the middle of the valley. He raised his scimitar over his head and roared. Saruman's army now waited only a few yards away from the Deeping wall.  
  
Gimli jumped up and down trying to see over the wall. "What's happening out there."  
  
"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas looked down at him grinning, "Or would you like me to find you a box? "  
  
Mornië resisted snickering, knowing it wouldn't be very "manly", and certainly wasn't appropriate for the setting.  
  
Gimli laughed. The joke had lightened his mood considerably. The silence that followed was full of tension. Many of the Rohirrim already had their arrows notched. The wait was too much for one of them. His arrow whined through the air and struck and Uruk in the unprotected area below his throat.  
  
Aragorn's voice rang out. "Dartho!" The damage was already done however. The Uruk's grew agitated. They grew agitated, baring their teeth and growling. "Tangado halad!" The elvish command was followed with military precision. The elves reached for arrows as one and notched them to their bow strings. Mornië pulled hers back to her cheek and waited for the command to fire. "Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc. (Their armour is weak at the neck and beneath the arms.)" Legolas issued the instructions as he took aim himself. The information was absorbed silently and put to use.  
  
"Leithio i philinn!" The command was followed with the rushing sound of hundreds of arrows released at once. Equally as many Uruk's fell to the ground almost instantly, dead. "Did they hit anything?!" Gimli asked anxiously. The order for a volley was given to the Rohirrim, and Mornië could hear the arrows as they whistled overhead. She was thankful that the horse men at least had a decent aim.  
  
Ribed bant!!!" The elves behind the wall released a full volley, killing more of the Uruks on the other side of the wall.  
  
"Send them to me! C'mon!" Gimli brandished his axe impatiently.  
  
"Pendraith!!" Aragorn yelled the warning just as the first ladder began rising up to meet the wall.  
  
"Good!" Gimli grinned, preparing himself to fight.  
  
"Swords! Swords!" The elves drew their swords in unison, the light glinting off of the fine yet deadly weapons. The first ladder made contact with the wall, and the fighting broke loose.  
  
Mornië plunged her sword into the first Uruk that topped the wall, sending the horrid creature tumbling back down. Half realizing what she was doing, she began fighting her way down the wall toward Athrun's position. "Dûriel!" Her head spun to the left. She recognized the name and the voice, but warning bells began going off in her head. Ignoring whoever it was, she kept fighting.  
  
"Come here, pretty one!" An enormous Uruk wrenched her helmet off from behind. She swung around and slashed at it with her sword.  
  
Amarth grinned wickedly. The Uruk had confirmed for him what he had wanted to know. Dûriel or 'Mornië' as she was now called, had disguised herself just as he had thought. Not wanting the disgusting being to take away the glory of killing her, he threw a long knife into the back of the Uruk's neck, killing it instantly.  
  
The she-elf whirled away from the carcass and continued working her way down the wall. Amarth cursed and followed. He had to get her into the caves and through the pass on the other side of the mountain.  
  
Mornië hacked her way through another Uruk before she came within sight of Athrun. He was fighting to stay alive himself.  
  
"Togo hon dad, Legolas!" She glanced back toward Aragorn. The man was leaning over the wall and pointing at a scantily clad Uruk carrying a torch and running for the culvert. She glanced to wear the culvert opening stood and froze. Sniggering Uruk-hai carried a large, spike covered ball into the opening.  
  
The sight made something in her mind click. All her memories came flooding back at once. Killing Amarth's brother, and jumping off the cliff to escape her death. It all came back. Along with them came the realization that the containers were filled with a special power made by Saruman. Powder that could explode with enough force to break the wall. "Dago hon! Dago hon!" She yelled to whoever was listening.  
  
Athrun whirled around at the cry. That was Mornië! He spotted her by the wall, yelling and pointing. Just then an explosion rocked the night. Rock and debris shot through the air. The bodies of orcs, elves, and men flew into the air to land scattered over the bloodied landscape.  
  
Amarth took advantage of the ensuing confusion to grab Dûriel. She stiffened and swung around, expecting to see an orc. Her eyes widened when they met his. "You're coming with me." The sinister note in his voice and the added encouragement of a dagger silenced any protests. "Thalion is waiting for us." Amarth pushed her through the advancing throng of elves who were running for either the gates or the now gaping hole in the Deeping Wall. Dûriel was surprisingly submissive.  
  
He had no idea that it was because she was a mix of conflicting emotions inside. She had known about the powder but had been able to warn anyone. That was why she had been trying to get to Imladris in the first place. That was why she had killed her cousin. When (insert name here) had found out she spying for one of the elven lord in Rivendell, he had threatened to go to Amarth. She had had no other recourse.  
  
A stony faced Thalion met them at the entrance to the caves. "He's following," Thalion pointed over Amarth's shoulder. All three looked down and saw Athrun staring at them quizzically.  
  
"Shoot him." Amarth ordered coldly. Mornië let nothing show on her face, but she tried to pull away.  
  
"None of that!" Amarth shoved the point of the dagger into her side just enough to nick her. She grimaced and went still.  
  
Thalion slowly raised his bow and fired. His shot swept over Athrun's shoulder. Too close for anyone's comfort. Without a word, he then picked up a torch and began leading them through the winding, glittering passages. Amarth kept the dagger at her back and one hand on her left arm.  
  
Groups of women and children of all ages watching curiously as they passed. None questioned however. "In here," Thalion opened a door at the very back of the caves. A cold wind blew down the passage from the entrance to the pass, chilling Mornië to the bone.  
  
Athrun was so preoccupied now that he hardly noticed the battle going on around him. Mornië had somehow made it to Helm's Deep without his knowledge, and, judging by the way she was dressed, he could pretty much assume she had done it right under his nose.  
  
He saw the flashing knife the strange elf held to her back as he led her away. Feelings he thought were buried and gone suddenly welled up inside him. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to her despite his promise that he would kill her.  
  
A group of battling elves and Uruk-hai blocked his way momentarily. He fought his way furiously through. When Athrun emerged, they were gone. Several minutes passed as he tried to find some trace of Mornië and the elf. The distinct whine of an arrow overhead caused him to look up.  
  
The arrow flew over his shoulder. It passed so close to his face that he felt the wind of it's passing. It thudded into the body of a fallen orc behind him. An orc that was already dead. It was distinctly elven. Athrun's head flew up sharply. Thalion! The elf he had considered his best friend for more that 3 ages of men was standing on a ledge at the entrance of the glittering caves holding a bow. Mornië and the elf who had taken her away from battle were there as well. The look of dread on Mornië's face went unnoticed by Athrun.  
  
[i]"It must have been a warning."[/i] His attempt at mental reassurance gave only a small amount of hope. Thalion never missed a target.  
  
He couldn't believe that Thalion had meant to kill him. When the three turned to go into the caves, Athrun dashed toward the entrance. How he would find them in the labyrinth that was the Glittering Caves he didn't know. Athrun flew into the caves, past the startled women and children.  
  
He grabbed a young boy. "Did you see three elves pass just now?!" The boy looked up at him fearfully. "Did you?!" The boy pointed mutely down one of the many paths through the caves.  
  
Amarth finished tying the she-elf's hands. He made sure they were uncomfortable tight before backhanding her with enough force to send her stumbling to her knees. "You know what I want to know, Dûriel. Why don't you make this easier on yourself and just tell me."  
  
"That's not my name," Mornië stared up at him defiantly. She had been in this position once before. Only this time, she would make sure that Amarth died.  
  
Amarth hit her again, harder. "Ever the one to make things difficult."  
  
Athrun stood listening at the door for only a moment. Having heard all he needed to, he burst in, his hand on his sword. the first thing he saw was Mornië tied against the rough stone, fresh blood trickling from her lip.  
  
"Ah, the gallant prince come to rescue his whore." Amarth grabbed Mornië by the throat and dragged her to her feet.  
  
Athrun snarled at him. Realizing he had been tricked, he started to come at Amarth with his sword raised, but quickly halted when the elf pressed the razor edge of the dagger to the pulsing vein in Mornië's throat.  
  
"Move again and she dies."  
  
Athrun stayed where he was, shooting daggers at Amarth with his eyes. "I'm sorry Mornië,: he didn't take his eyes off the elf, "I should have believed you."  
  
"Isn't that pathetic." Amarth dropped Mornië. She fell in a heap at his feet, clutching her throat and gasping for breath.  
  
"Leave, Athrun." She finally croaked. "They'll kill you too."  
  
Athrun looked at Mornië with pain in his eyes, longing to go to her and help her, but he knew Amarth would kill her first. "Let her go Amarth!"  
  
Amarth snorted. "Why? What is she to you?" The elf stepped toward Athrun, keeping his attention focused on him alone. Thalion emerged from the shadows, unnoticed by Athrun or Mornië.  
  
Mornië began struggling to her feet. She couldn't let Athrun get involved. A movement in the shadows behind the two elves caught her eye. Thalion stepped into the torch light, his sword raised for a stroke. "No!"  
  
Amarth whirled on her, striking her hard enough to send her crashing back into the stone wall. The back of her head struck the rock, and she sank slowly to the floor, unconscious. 


	10. Despair

The first thing Mornië became aware of was the harsh stone beneath her, sharp bits of the rock biting into the side of her face. Then came the memories and the pain. She groaned a little, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Her entire body screamed in protest to the movement. But she didn't care. Where was Athrun?  
  
Darkness had covered the world in her star studded cloak. Slow, lazy fog drifted across the ground as dew drops sparkled in the moonlight. All was silent save for a small fire crackling nearby. No moon was visible in the night sky. With what little strength she could muster, the she-elf pushed herself to her hands and knees.  
  
"Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty," Mornië knew the taunting voice all too well. She glared at the elf who sat beside the small fire, examining something in his hands. Thalion sat nearby, silent and brooding.  
  
"Where is Athrun?" she demanded, her voice low.  
  
"What, that stupid whelp? Why should you care?"  
  
Mornië glared at him with hatred, but Amarth saw a flicker of apprehension in her eyes, and it amused him. Mornië looked to Thalion. "What did you do, Thalion?!" Thalion raised his eyes from the fire and glanced at her. Without a word, he suddenly stood and turned on his heel, moving away from the fire into the forest.  
  
Amarth chuckled in amusement. "Evidently killing childhood friends doesn't sit well with him," he explained to Mornië with a malicious smile.  
  
[i]"No!"[/i] Mornië dropped her head to hide the anguish in her eyes. [i]"It's not true! It can't be!"[/i] She struggled to maintain control. "Oh Valar." she whispered. She raised her eyes and looked at Amarth. "You snake; you lie!" She lunged at him, but was held back by her bonds.  
  
"O do I?" Amarth's smirk grew as he held up what he had been handling, "Then what is this?" In his hand Amarth held up a bedraggled and bloodstained cloak. Hanging by a thread from a sleeve was a small, circular emblem Mornië knew well. The tunic belonged to Athrun.  
  
Mornië's darkened and glazed slightly. Mentally, she tried to steal herself against the flood emotions that converged on her at once. A single tear escaped and carved a path through the dirt that caked her face. "I'll kill you, Amarth."  
  
He laughed, the sound sliding down her spine like ice. "I'd like to see you try."  
  
Thalion gave Mornië another shove up the narrow trail they were following. One side of which dropped off into a deep gulley. The she-elf stumbled and fell to her knees. Amarth pushed Thalion aside and grabbed his captive by the back of the neck. Tilting her head back, he shoved a canteen into her face. "Drink." The liquid in the canteen was definitely not water. It was a very strong liquor Amarth gave his followers before a battle. "I'm not quite ready to kill you yet." he muttered before pushing her forward.  
  
The liquor sent a false warmth through her body. Amarth had given her just enough to keep her going. A drop more and she would've been teetering on the edge of drunk. Straightening her back, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, silently wishing that Amarth would just push her over the cliff and be done with her.  
  
She didn't know how long they had been walking like this; never stopping except to rest for a few minutes at a time or for Thalion and Amarth to eat. The stead pace was only interrupted from time to time by an occasional blow from one of her captors. Her body was wracked with pain, and she burned with a strange fever, but she didn't care; Athrun was dead. He was really dead. She moved like one in a dream, hoping, praying that at any moment they would wake up. Her silent acceptance only seemed to infuriate Amarth even more.  
  
"What's wrong Dûriel?" he asked at one of their brief rests. He was chewing on some dried fruit and the sight and smell of food had driven her almost to distraction. "You've become weak." he circled wear she sat. She said nothing, did nothing. She didn't even look at him. Her gaze remained focused on the ground in front of her. Snarling, he grabbed a handful of her dirty, blood-matted hair, wrenching her head backwards.  
  
The lack of fight in her caught him slightly off guard. Her eyes met his involuntarily. They were empty. No emotion or life could be seen in them. He had seen that blank gaze many times, but only in those he had killed. It was the emptiness of death. He released her head and gave her a sharp blow that sent her tumbling to the ground. "  
  
Tell me, why do I even keep you alive?" he spat at her, kicking her in the ribs.  
  
Mornië sat up, her breathing pained and laboured. "I was hoping you could tell me," she said quietly.  
  
Amarth's eyes sparked, and he flew at her again, kicking her fiercely. Mornië simply curled up into a ball and took the abuse. "In that case, maybe I should just kill you now!!!" He practically screamed, the blows raining down unceasingly.  
  
"Stop Amarth," Thalion finally spoke, watching broodingly from where he sat on a fallen tree.  
  
"Who are you to tell me what to do with my captive?!?" Amarth snarled at him.  
  
"First off, she's just as much my captive as yours, and secondly, you don't want her dead just yet," Thalion shrugged, "What's the point of hurting her when she's unconscious? She can't feel it. You'd only be doing her a favour." The excuse formulated out of nowhere, but Amarth evidently saw some truth in it. He kicked Mornië one last time before heading off down the trail again.  
  
"Lets move," he growled, "get the she-elf." '  
  
Thalion stepped forward and looked down at the huddled, battered form on the ground. "Come on," he said quietly, lifting her by the arm. "I'm sorry about Athrun," he said quietly, before sending her on ahead of him.  
  
Mornië stumbled ahead, then, stopped glancing back at him. "Then why are you still here?" There was an accusatory glint in her eyes.  
  
Thalion didn't meet her gaze. "Just walk," he muttered, pushing her a little, but not hard as Amarth usually did.  
  
Amarth led them on his chosen track for several weeks. Giving Mornië only enough food, water, and rest to keep her alive. She thought she recognized the forest around her but couldn't be sure. Thalion, she knew, was completely lost.  
  
Mornië had receded further and further into herself throughout the entire time. She only moved when she had to, and had ceased speaking all together. If not for Thalion's watchful eye, she would've thrown herself off some convenient cliff at the first chance she was given.  
  
At night, Amarth would bind her securely to a tree, making sure there was no way she could escape even if she had wanted to. Often times the bonds had caused her arms and legs to go stiff and numb long before morning came, and when she was untied, she would collapse to the ground; an event that Amarth found amusing.  
  
Amarth had stripped her of her elven armour many days past, including her boots, and the sharp rocks on the crude path cut into her feet and made them bleed profusely. After a few days, they left the path, and headed in an uneven course through the forest. Many times Mornië thought she was lost, but then she would see something that look vaguely familiar.  
  
The Agarwaen had never had a permanent home. The closest thing they had to such was a large cavern in the mountains bordering Far Harad. In the last few years she had travelled with them, they had been there only once. It had been then, that she had killed his brother. The realization that Amarth wanted to kill her there came as no surprise. He wanted vengeance and nothing more.  
  
Thalion marched noisily through the woods away from the camp site. He could no longer bring himself to watch Amarth abusing the she-elf he had helped to capture. Yes, he had once promised to kill her himself, but killing Athrun hadn't been part of that bargain. All his resolve had drained out of him when he had seen his best friend's lifeless body lieing on the cold stone of the Glittering Caves. But he was too far into it all to back out.  
  
Several more days passed in the same manor. Amarth leading them through the woods, stopping only when he thought it necessary, and beating Mornië each time. Thalion didn't know how much longer the she-elf could keep the pace in her condition. He was amazed she was still able to move. Her breathing was always heavy and laboured. More than once, he had seen her double over and cough up blood.  
  
"How much farther Amarth," he asked. He had no idea where they were, or even where Amarth was taking them.  
  
"About a day or less," the elf replied. "Why, are you getting tired?" he added with a sneer. Thalion didn't deign to reply.  
  
Mornië felt a faint surge of relief when she heard they were almost at their destination. Amarth would end her misery soon. A smile almost made it to her face. Amarth might be getting his vengeance, but, in the process, he would send her to Mandos and Athrun.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity and many miles later, Amarth motioned for them to stop. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, as a dark unnatural cloud hung over the sky, pressing down and smothering the land. He turned to Mornië, a cruel, bitter sneer curling his lips. "Do you know where we are?"  
  
Mornië looked around with slightly glazed, empty eyes, and then turned them to her cousin, no feeling showing whatsoever. "Yes," she said finally. This was where she had killed his brother.  
  
Amarth smirked and threw a rope at Thalion's feet. "Stay here." He spun and walked quickly into the surrounding woods without any explanation. Thalion kicked the rope aside. Tired, he sat down on a nearby log with his back to Mornië.  
  
The she-elf leaned shakily against a tree and slid to the ground. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her entire body throbbed, screaming with pain. When she had rested for several minutes, she lifted her head and pulled a piece of cloth out of her shirt where she had hidden it. The green, bloody tunic still carried his scent. Burying her face in it's bedraggled folds, she finally let loose the dam of emotion she had kept locked up inside.  
  
Her practically silent sobs didn't go unnoticed by Thalion, but the elf tried to ignore it and the stab of guilt that the sound brought. Mornië clutched at the bloody and torn tunic with white, scraped and raw knuckles, holding onto it as if trying to grasp something that was long gone. She breathed in Athrun's scent, trying to remember the times they had spent together in Imladris, happy.  
  
But the only memories that came to her mind were his angry face. He had thought she had betrayed him. She never got to tell him the truth herself. Was never able to tell him how much she loved him. Mornië's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her grief spending the last of her energy. She had nothing left to spend it on; Amarth was welcome to kill her now for all it mattered.  
  
Amarth returned several hours later. He didn't say anything to Thalion about leaving Mornië unbound. He simply shook his head, and battered her about some more as he did the task himself. The darkness hid her red, puffy eyes from him, for which Mornië was grateful. No one knew when the sun had set because of the dark cloud cover.  
  
Amarth and Thalion both slept next to the fire several yards away. Close enough to watch her, but not close enough for her to benefit from the flames warmth.  
  
Mornië dozed for several minutes. Her short nap was interrupted by Thalion getting up from his sleeping place and walking off into the woods. Mornië couldn't help but wonder where he was going. He always slept by the fire, even though he was in the habit of walking off a lot. The thought didn't rest in her mind for very long as she slipped back into the small relief of sleep. Her body still screamed in pain, and even as she dozed, her fevered body wouldn't let her rest much.  
  
She started awake suddenly as something, a hand, snaked around the tree from behind her and clamped over her mouth. Her first instinct was to struggle, but a gruff "Shh." stopped her. Thalion? 


	11. Confession

Mornië stiffened but stopped struggling. A hooded and cloaked figure rounded the tree, carrying an unsheathed dagger. Kneeling next to her, he slowly removed his hand from her mouth before cutting her bonds. "Thalion?" Mornië whispered hoarsely. The figure looked up, their features undistinguishable in the dark beneath the hood.  
  
"No," they said quietly and simply, making quick work of her bonds. As always, Amarth had tied them too tight, and Mornië found that her legs couldn't support her. The stranger pulled her to her feet, but her knees immediately buckled. Falling against him, she thought she heard him grind his teeth together angrily. He scooped her up in his arms, holding her close, and started walking into the surrounding darkness.  
  
Just at the moment a green pillar of light split the dark night, lighting up the sky to the east; Mordor. She heard the cloaked stranger suck in his breath and drop to the ground beneath the brush, none to gently, rolling his body to cover hers in the darkness, his cloak blending them into the night. Mornië could feel and hear his ragged breathing by her ear, and his arms held her still.  
  
The air tingled as the green light lit the world eerily. An odd fear gripped Mornië. She turned her head toward the camp site. She could hear scuffling and cursing.  
  
"Where is she?!" Amarth's voice tore through the darkness. Thalion's reply was muffled. "Find her!" Amarth headed in one direction, while Thalion went in another. Neither of them believed she could've gone far.  
  
Her mysterious saviour rolled back over, and pulled them both to their feet, supporting her full weight. He pulled her behind a tree, pulling his cloak around her and effectively hiding them as Thalion passed by.  
  
They waited a few moments after he had passed, and Mornië waited for him to move again, but he didn't. She raised her face from his chest and found him staring at her. "Who are you?" she whispered. A moment of silence prevailed. The stranger tilted her chin gently with his hand and kissed her softly on the lips. Mornië's eyes flew wide open in shock. "Athrun!"  
  
He covered her mouth with his hand before the cry escaped. "Shh." He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled. "We have to run for it. I'm going to have to carry you." He lifted her into his arms again, keeping his cloak around her. Mornië wrapped her arms around Athrun's neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She had briefly forgotten how much pain she was in, but it all came flooding back as soon as Athrun picked her up.  
  
Athrun held her closer if that was at all possible. Rounding the tree, he came face to face with Thalion. The elf stared at him for a few minutes in shock before moving away. "Go quickly1"  
  
Athrun turned away from Thalion only to see Amarth rounding a tree a few yards away. There was no way he could outrun the elf while carrying Mornië, and she couldn't run on her own. He carefully and gently set Mornië down, still supporting her by the arm she had wrapped around his neck.  
  
"You're supposed to be dead." Amarth drew his sword. "Why can't I ever be rid of you?!?"  
  
"Oh, but I am dead," Athrun gave him a cold smile that would have frozen over Mordor on a summer day, "I stand before you a phantom, come back to haunt you for your sins." Amarth paled for a moment, but quickly recovered. Athrun spoke quietly in Mornië's ear. "Go as fast as you can from this place, don't worry about me."  
  
Mornië wanted to protect, but Athrun gave her a very gentle push forward. "I'll find you." She steeled herself and stumbled into a nearby tree. The ring of steel being drawn almost made her look back. Closing her eyes, she kept going. Once she knew she couldn't be seen, she began circling back around. It was slow work, and she had to rely on logs and trees for support. The circulation was slowly returning to her legs.  
  
Athrun stared at Amarth coldly, his steel blue eyes picking up flecks of eerie green from the sky. His gaze would have had any normal man or elf cowering, but Amarth simply stood with his sword drawn, looking at him amusedly.  
  
"You two make quite a pair," Amarth drew his own sword. "You're both very difficult to get rid of. Not for long though." he lunged forward, intending to catch Athrun off guard.  
  
Athrun blocked the blow with ease. He had long ago learned to expect the unexpected when dealing with someone who wanted to kill you. "I'm not going to give you the chance to kill either of us." He swung his sword around, the two weapons clashing together at the hilt.  
  
"Thalion! Help me take him you fool!" Amarth shouted to the elf who stood watching passively. He didn't respond, and Athrun took Amarth's moment of distraction to angle a strike towards his legs.  
  
Amarth jumped. Cursing at Thalion, he focused all his attention on the elf before him. With a flick of his wrist and dagger slid free of its wrist sheath and into his hand. He flung it at Athrun. The dagger flew through the air and cut into Athrun's hand before burying itself in a tree.  
  
Athrun paid no heed to the bleeding cut on his hand, and advanced upon Amarth, switching his sword to his other hand. A deep rumble of thunder broke the stillness of the night, quickly followed by a bright flash. As the first few drops fell, their swords clashed again.  
  
Athrun drove his blade against Amarth's with incredible force, driving the elf back into the ground. Athrun's eyes burned with a dangerous light as the two faced off, their swords hopelessly locked. It was a matter of who's strength gave out first.  
  
Amarth produced an other dagger from nowhere and stabbed Athrun's hands where they gripped the sword. The elf hissed in pain, dropped his sword, and took a few steps back. Amarth smirked at Athrun. "You're just as pathetic as the girl." he wiped his sword off on the hem of his cloak and sheathed it. He looked at the bloody dagger in his hand. Stepping close her weighed the weapon in his hand. "You'll make a fine meal for the crows." Flinging the dagger with as much force as he could, he watched it sail through the air toward it's target.  
  
Time slowed for an instant as the blade flashed in a deadly arc through the air. Then Thalion appeared out of nowhere in front of Athrun, shoving his friend to the side. "No!" Athrun stared in shock as the blade came to rest hilt deep in Thalion's chest. He scrambled to catch him as he fell to the cold earth. "Always was too stupid for his own good," Amarth muttered before disappearing after  
  
Thalion gasped for breath. Athrun reached for the dagger to pull it out but Thalion stopped him. "I'm sorry," he choked. Athrun shook his head.  
  
"Don't go."  
  
Thalion grinned slightly. "Find her, Athrun. Find her and marry her."  
  
"You're supposed to stand with me." Athrun grasped Thalion's hand. He could see his friend's eyes begin to glaze over.  
  
A trickle of blood appeared from Thalion's mouth, and Athrun could hear him struggling for breath. He fought back tears of fury directed at Amarth, and sorrow as he held his friends hand tightly. "I... I'm sorry Athrun..." Thalion managed to choke out again, his breath short.  
  
"I forgive you Thalion, just stay with me here. You're going to be fine!" Even as Athrun spoke the words he knew that they weren't true.  
  
A small smile curled around the edges of Thalion's mouth as he breathed his last strangled breath, his eyes glazing over and staring blankly into space. Athrun fought back a cry of rage. This was not supposed to be the fate of an elf; to die. He brushed his hand over his friend's eyes gently, closing them. "Rest in the halls of Mandos, my friend," he said quietly. He rose to his feet and picked up his sword from where it had fallen on the now muddy ground.  
  
The rain continued to pour down relentlessly, and it ran down his face in tiny rivulets. Amarth would pay. Amarth! Athrun suddenly realized that both he and Mornië were missing, and a sliver of dread ran through him. He could not lose two of the people closest to him in one night. He would not.  
  
Mornië stumbled against another tree and glanced around it's round expanse in time to see Amarth fling the dagger at Athrun. She just barely held in a scream of warning. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again Amarth was gone and Thalion, not Athrun, had a dagger embedded in his chest.  
  
She looked around frantically, trying to find where Amarth had gone to. "He must be nearby," she muttered to herself.  
  
"How very observant," His voice hissed in her ear, making her jump and recoil from him. He grabbed her roughly, clamping a hand over her mouth hard. She kicked and struggled against him as he dragged her back into the trees, farther away from Athrun and Thalion, but she quickly expended what little energy she had left.  
  
Lapsing into unconsciousness because of the pain, she didn't hear Athrun get up to come look for her. Nor did she feel anything when Amarth dropped her to the forest floor. He kicked her roughly in the side, causing her to emit an involuntary groan. The ring of steel being drawn caused her to open her eyes.  
  
She struggled to rise as Amarth advanced on her with his long knife drawn. A strangled cry escaped her lips as he yanked her to her feet and slammed her against a tree, white sparks dancing across her vision. "If I can't kill him, I'm going to make him suffer as much as possible. Maybe he'll fade away and leave me in peace." He pressed the point of the knife to her stomach. "I want him to hear you scream."  
  
Mornië groaned, struggling in his grasp. "Pity; if I had more time, I'd make you suffer even more," Amarth shrugged and drove the blade into her flesh, almost to the hilt. Mornië gasped. It felt like a fire had been lit in her middle. Nothing he had done so far had caused this much pain. He let go of the knife and watched with a satisfied glint in his eye as she sank slowly to the ground.  
  
"No!!!" Athrun's cry rang out above her own agonized cry. He lunged wildly at Amarth.  
  
The elf barely had enough to doge the fatal blow. He backed away from Athrun when he saw the crazed anger in his eyes. Feeling for a dagger, he continued to retreat slowly into the trees.  
  
Athrun advanced. Anger unlike anything he had ever felt burned through him. He now understood what 'seeing red' meant. Amarth, not looking where he was going, backed into a tree and froze. Athrun, seeing his chance, lunged once more. His sword sinking into Amarth's left shoulder, pinning him to the tree. He wrenched the sword out. Leaving a jagged cut behind.  
  
Amarth fell forward into the dirt as the light faded from his eyes. Blood pooled around him, pouring profusely from the shoulder wound.  
  
Athrun kicked the elf viciously, sending him tumbling down a short embankment, stopping just a few yards from the sheer drop off on the side of the mountain. Athrun advanced down the slop towards him as Amarth managed to rise to his feet, searching for a weapon. The realization that he had none came quickly, and he backed away from the raging elf before him.  
  
Amarth scrambled back, teetering on the edge of the drop off. He glanced over his shoulder at the raging water below, and then back at Athrun.  
  
Athrun raised his sword to strike again as Amarth lost his balance and started to fall. The elf's strike was cut short by a mental cry; [i]"Mornië!"[/i] His sword grazed Amarth's shoulder as the elf tumbled back with a cry into the empty air, grabbing at nothing but rain and air. Athrun watched as the body struck the rocks, and disappeared beneath the waters. "Define irony," he muttered, throwing down his sword.  
  
Athrun turned and ran back up the embankment. Dashing through the trees, he dropped to his knees beside Mornië. Much to his relief, she was still breathing but just barely. She opened her eyes when put a trembling hand to her cheek. "Stay with me, please." she whispered.  
  
"I will. I will," Athrun murmured frantically, tearing off his tunic and pressing the material against the wound. Mornië's skin was pale and ashen, her lips beginning to turn an ugly shade of blue.  
  
"Don't leave me!" he practically yelled in desperation, cradling her limp form to himself. Her blood mingled with the rain on the ground, staining it a crimson red. Athrun's tears fell on her face, undistinguishable from the rain.  
  
His hand rested on the hilt of the blade still embedded deeply in her stomach. Mornië's weak hand brushed against his, and he took it, squeezing it. "Athrun... I..." Her breathing was ragged and laboured as she gasped for each pained breath.  
  
"Don't talk," he tried to hush her.  
  
Shaking her head in weak protest, Mornië was determined to tell him. "I... love you." she murmured just before her eyes closed and she went completely limp in his arms.  
  
"No... NO!!! You can't die on me Mornië!" Tears flowed unchecked as he yelled. "Please! Please don't go! I love you! Do you hear me?! I love you!" He clutched her limp body to his chest, sobbing. "Please..." He murmured his quiet plea desperately, pressing his lips to her forehead. Her skin was cold. "No!!!" He screamed in rage and pain, his face lifted to the cold uncaring sky.  
  
"Lord Athrun!" The sound of familiar voices reached Athrun through the rain. He was so immersed in his own grief that he didn't even wonder why they had followed him. A group of six elves ran into the small clearing but stopped dead when they saw their captain sitting in the mud holding a presumably dead she-elf.  
  
One of the elves motioned for the rest of his companions to wait while he slowly advanced. Nestadbor knelt down beside Athrun. The elf didn't even look at him. He just stared at the woman in his arms. Nestadbor thought he noticed very faint breathing. It was possible that the she-elf was not yet dead. Carefully, he pressed a finger to her throat. A very faint, sporadic pulse could be felt.  
  
"Leave us in peace," Athrun finally muttered, noticing the elf for the first time.  
  
"My lord, she's not in Mandos' halls yet."  
  
"What?" Athrun looked up at him with uncomprehending eyes.  
  
"She yet lives my lord." 


	12. Epilogue

Mornië fought her way through a wall of darkness and pain to conciousness. She slowly opened her eyes. It took several minutes for her eyes to adjust to the light. She turned her head slowly and noticed that her hair was clean, a state it had not been in for longer than she cared to admit.  
  
Her gaze then fell on a sleeping figure at her bedside. Athrun, it appeared had fallen asleep in his chair with his head resting on the edge of her bed.  
  
She weakly tried to move a little, but stopped, grimacing in pain. She remembered everything now. She turned her gaze to Athrun's sleeping form, his dark hair falling over his face. "But I was dead..." she tried to sort her thoughts.  
  
Athrun's voice crept into the back of her mind, like something she had heard, but hadn't really. He had said... that he loved her. Had it been a dream? She reached out a weak hand and let the tips of her fingers graze against the sleeping elf's hair, before letting it fall limply back to the bed; she was too weak. She closed her eyes again, fighting back the pain that threatened to send her back into darkness again.  
  
Athrun stirred slightly, and she opened her eyes, her eyes meeting his. Athrun slowly lifted his head. He had hoped against all hope that she would wake up, and, now that she had, he was so overjoyed he couldn't speak.  
  
"I thought you were dead," she finally broke the silence, her eyes still on his.  
  
Athrun's face lit up with a tired grin as he gave a strained laugh. "Look who's talking. You had me scared."  
  
Mornië smiled weakly. "Sorry," she said dryly with a small grin, then her face became serious again. "How did you survive?"  
  
"Thalion missed," he gave a rueful grin, "n Amarth didn't." He gestured to the band of cloth that was tied around his head, which Mornië hadn't noticed before. "I guess they just left me for dead."  
  
"I'm glad you're not," Mornië said quietly.  
  
Athrun ran a hand over her cheek. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked quietly clasping one of her hands in his.  
  
She looked at him confused for a second before she understood what he was talking about. "Every word."  
  
"So did I," Athrun said quietly. A few moments passed. "I thought you were dead Mornië," Athrun finally said. She could see the pain in his eyes. "Seeing you lying there, surrounded by your own blood, your skin ashen... I... I could only think of what a fool I had been." Mornië couldn't say anything.  
  
"You're not a fool Athrun," she finally managed.  
  
Athrun met her eyes. "Yes I am. I didn't believe you or listen when you tried to explain. I didn't trust what my heart told me. And I'm even more a fool because..." He looked down, fumbling for something in his tunic. "Because I didn't do this a long time ago." Mornië looked confused.  
  
Athrun sank to his knees beside her bed, holding something in his hand she couldn't see. He laughed a little. "You have no idea how long I have practised these words in my mind, yet when it comes down to it I'll probably still sound like a simpleton." He took her hand.  
  
"Mornië," he looked into her eyes almost pleadingly, "I would be the most honoured, and happy, elf in all the world, if..." he placed the item in her hand, "If you would marry me?" Mornië looked down at what he had put in her hand, and gasped a little in surprise. It was a worn, faded, and crumpled paper flower; the same he had given her in Lorien, and the same she had later returned. Athrun looked at her hopefully.  
  
Mornië closed her eyes as the tears began to flow. She sniffed and look at Athrun. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" She clutched the flower as if it were her last life line. She slowly raised one hand to touch his face. "I thought once I could live without you but wouldn't want to, and now I can't do either. Yes."  
  
Athrun's face broke into a relieved boyish grin that almost made Mornië laugh. He leaned over impulsively and kissed her gently. "Thank you," he finally said.  
  
"So," Mornië said after a while, "Do I get those daggers back too?" 


End file.
